Delinquent
by SapphireMalice
Summary: The latest addition to Litchfield is Malikova, who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time... high on crack and setting fire to a library, that is. Red can't help but notice similarities between the half-Russian and her most difficult daughter. A series mostly surrounding the day to day life of Red's family, loosely following the events of the series. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:  
Welcome to my first story... go me. As mentioned in the description this piece is pretty oneshotty, subject to change as I get ideas on how to progress the story (suggestions much appreciated).**

 **Thanks!**

"Squat and cough, Inmate," Bell said, her voice like an old foghorn.

With a roll of her eyes, Malikova complied; she was too caught up in her own self-pity to feel embarrassed. A less than friendly shove jostled her back to reality: she was going to prison. Not juvy ... Prison.  
 _Sitting with the big kids now, Mali._ She thought. She had decided to face the Litchfield experience with her ever-present sarcasm, which had embedded itself into her personality long before any other traits showed up. As she walked to the van waiting outside Malikova caught one final glimpse of her freedom; her clothes sat abandoned on a table. They were tattered and the blue of her jeans had faded two shades more than when she first got them, but they were hers. In her starched and baggy uniform she tried to avoid thinking of the hundreds - maybe even thousands - of women who had worn it before her. _At least it's warm_. She told herself, hugging the jacket around her small frame.

The van was driven by a girl known as Morello. Malikova figured she would look similar to the driver had she put any effort into her own appearance. Whilst Morello's dark chocolate hair was something straight out of the 50s, Malikova's was boob-length and untouched by any product. Where Morello had bright red lips, Malikova's were chapped. The only similarity in looks was a use of eyeliner - but even there Morello's was subtle and Malikova's more of a statement. There was a feeble attempt to strike up conversation from the other new convict but for the most part, the journey was as bleak as the sky outside.

The van pulled up at the mouth of the main building, where inmates were watching new arrivals like vultures. With a habitual crack of her knuckles, Malikova (in her uniform which screamed 'NEW MEAT') followed the Italian-American to the double doors that lead to the next 5 years of her life.


	2. Chapter 2

The limp carrots fell onto her plate with a disheartening thud. With a nod of thanks to the server, She looked around the cafeteria for a seat. With a mix of both relief and apprehension, she saw Chapman. Chapman - according to DeMarco - got sent away for almost killing another inmate... But Malikova felt that choosing the possible psychopath over a table of old hags was the lesser of two evils.

"Can I uh, can I sit here?" She muttered, and fell onto the stool after Chapman waved her hand in acceptance. Not one for conversation, they sat in comfortable silence, occasionally glancing up to size the other one up. That soon vanished when the Morello girl joined them with another inmate dressed in khaki, and a flaming redhead in white; Malikova could only assume she was a cook of some kind.

"Ay Chapman, who's the new kid?" The other inmate asked, her question directed towards Malikova. Chapman's eyes met Malikova's for a second: she had never actually introduced herself, and Chapman hadn't bothered to ask. Playing with her food and staring intently at her tray, she replied.

"Black."

"Forgive me, I'm really into this whole, new-age, not seeing race shit and all, truly, I am. But uh - and this is just my non-expert opinion, by the way - you very much look to be white," The inmate chuckled, before adopting a more serious tone. "You'll get ripped apart if you call yourself Black, kid. What's your name?"

The note of concern (albeit faint) in her voice was enough for Malikova to meet her gaze. "Mali," she answered.

"A'ight Mali... Well, I'm sure you've met the brainless beauty, Lorna Morello-" The remark earned the inmate a slap on the arm. "-I'm Nicky, and this crazy Russian is the legendary Red. So uh, is Mali short for Mallory or somethin'?"

"Malikova."

Red's head shot up at this, her eyes scanning every inch of Mali's face.

"Vy ruski?"

 _You're Russian?_ Mali understood the question with her patchy knowledge of the language. She was well rehearsed in what she said next, though she replied in English.

"Half. My mom."

Red's shoulders drooped a little, denied the chance of starting a Litchfield Bratva. Still, it was apparently good enough for the cook. A single pack of cookies glided over the metal table to the girl. With a single nod which meant a multitude of things, the cook got up and left.

Chapman was still looking over Mali, forming some kind of judgement, when a large inmate walked past. "Ladies," she acknowledged the table. "Who's the babyface?"

 _Great. Thank you._ Mali sucked the air between her teeth. Nicky cocked her head. "Always one for discretion, hey? Boo, Mali, Mali, Boo," she waved her hand lazily at the two whilst introducing them. "Now fuck off and go prey on someone else."

Mali watched Boo leave, aware of the others inspecting her. If it wasn't already obvious, Boo's interruption had drawn attention to the girl's... youthful appearance.

"I gotta ask, then." Chapman finally asked, motioning to Mali with her fork. "You're not one of them young offenders on some kind of like, government enrichment program, are you? Like, a delinquent?"

Mali shook her head slowly.

"Then how old _are you_?" Chapman pressed.

Mali considered ignoring the question, but Morello and Nicky were obviously wondering the same thing. With a sigh, she resigned to telling these three whatever they wanted to know.

"Eighteen. And a couple days. I got caught on my birthday, last week," she scoffed, shaking her head. "They figured I'd been done so many times already, so they should stick me straight in here. So uh, here I am!" She ended with fake enthusiasm. The three exchanged looks before Morello spoke. "Y'know, you gotta be the youngest one down 'ere. Most of these guys are at least past twenty one, though sometimes you can't be sure, y'know? Like that Welkman girl, she coulda' passed for - what, twenty five, twenty six easy, but turns out she was only twenty! I reckon it's the clothes… I just don't think khaki is a very youthful colour..." Mali allowed Morello's chatter to wash over her. The older inmate reminded her of the waitresses at those old-fashioned diners.

"...There was Tricia of course. She was nineteen, I think it was? Yeah nineteen. But she..." She stopped abruptly, glancing down at her tray. "Oh, nevermind that. What I mean is that you, Mali, are kinda like her, y'know? Not in looks or anything - she had blonde hair… couple less burns on her cheeks an' all…" She was grasping at words now, her face flushing. She looked helplessly at Nicky, desperate for someone else to continue talking. Nicky looked lazily at Mali before concluding Morello's point.

"What she's tryna say, is you're basically like, a prison baby," she said bluntly. "It's like, you're probably too young to be in here, but too stupid to stay out Come on, we better clear out before Donaldson's up our asses," all three stood up. Mali fumbled with her tray, unsuccessfully trying to think of a way to shift herself from being the butt of their jokes.

"Ah come on, don't look so down," Morello said, dumping her tray into the designated box whilst sliding some crackers into the waistline of her pants. With a wag of her finger she continued. "It could be a lot worse. You could be workin' janitorial down with Crazyeyes, or… or you could be someone's bitch…"

"You don't seem to mind that job," Nicky said, grabbing Morello's waist.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Chapman said irritably, as the pair continued giggling. "Come on. Let them fuck in peace," and she and Mali walked on.

"Ay, Chapman, sure you don't want to join?" Nicky called after them, though a flick of the blonde's middle finger seemed to answer that. And so they continued down the corridor to their temporary bunk, in a now-familiar silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - So things go slightly AU here. Only slightly! That's because I don't think ahead… my bad. I'll fix it, don't worry... just go with it.**

 **Also shoutout to the lovely Johanna-002: I was not expecting a review (twice!) so fast, and I'm feeling all happy inside. Thank you, thank you, thank you.**

Mali was glad that she was getting assigned a job today; sitting around doing nothing is only ever fun when there's something to smoke, sniff or inject.

And today she was bound for the kitchen. Remembering that first encounter with Red and the all-meaningful nod, she couldn't help but wonder if her assigned job had been influenced by the Russian. It's easy to get an idea of Litchfield from the inmates' talk, and Kitchen seemed to be one of the better assignments. _You could be workin' janitorial down with Crazyeyes…_ Morello's voice echoed in her head.

She was met by a wall of mingling smells as she entered the kitchen. The air was thick with moisture as vegetables were steamed into limp ghosts of their previous form, and there was an undeniable hint of something burning. An outcry about overly generous portions gave away Red's location, and Mali picked her way past steel counters and boxed produce towards her.

"Mali! Yes, come come," Red said, her arms spread in a welcoming gesture. She put a floury hand on Mali's sleeve and guided her to a store cupboard. "You get hairnet here. I put you on secondary Kitchen: washing, cleaning, clearing. Gina will help you, yes?" Her question (though it was really more of an order) was aimed at a young inmate with short, mousey hair. Gina nodded, picking up a hairnet and throwing it over to Mali. Red began berating an inmate for pouring water incorrectly and was off, leaving Mali with her new mentor.

"Red must like you to put you into Kitchen this quick," she said as she leaned on the counter. "Are you the Russian one Nicky was talking about? The prison baby?"

Mali snorted. Her young age was clearly becoming a prison-wide pisstake. "Guess so. Mali," she said, nodding her head in introduction. Gina showed her all the stations at which she'd be working: sinks, store cupboard, and countertops. As she snaked her way through the kitchen she pointed out characters to Mali. There was Miss Claudette, the 'typical grumpy old witch'. Mason, a young inmate who could barely make toast. Norma, fiercely and silently loyal to Red.

Left to her own devices, Mali spent the hours washing and cleaning, washing and cleaning, washing and cleaning. She fell into a rhythm which was only ever interrupted by Red, who took time to check up on her new worker. As she washed and cleaned, Mali began listening in on the others' stories, their bitching, arguments and gossip. By the time she had finished scrubbing the grease from her thirty-fourth tray, she had learnt the best times to shower, the worst flavour of instant noodles from Commissary, and twelve different places to find cigarettes.

On her seventy-first tray things were getting a little tedious. The kitchen was stifling and the water from the tap was either boiling hot or freezing. The breakfast rush was over and she had been directed to clear the tables in the cafeteria. Trading the sponge for a wet cloth, she began wiping away the remains of the meal stuck to the tables.

The sound of polished boots on the floor signalled the arrival of a CO, headed straight for the kitchen. Peering over the serving counter, all Mali could see was an open storecupboard and muttering from the other inmates. The CO closed the door triumphantly and stalked back out of the cafeteria. Mali's hands gripped the edge of the table and she bit her lip as she caught a glimpse of what held in his hands. Her grip tightened, turning her knuckles white, with the sudden realisation that she hadn't had a fix of it in over 2 days.

 **So there's my way of bringing us back to the normal timeline. If you hadn't guessed, this scene is where Bennett finds Mendez' drugs. Aaaaand Mali's a junkie. Surprise!**

 **There wasn't much character interaction here, sorry 'bout that. I'll make it up in the next bit, pinky swear.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – Yay, I'm productive! Voila, chapter 4.** **Decided to give flashbacks a go… let's see how that works out, eh?**

Mali retched for the third time into the toilet bowl. She wasn't sure if she had skipped lunch because of some kind of subconscious loyalty to Red or simply because the thought of food was sickening, but she regretted it severely now. She reached behind her as if to open the stall door before remembering there wasn't one and got up to leave.

 _God, Mali. You look like shit._

The lack of sleep showed in her face and the burns on her left cheek and forehead were that much more prominent in contrast to her pale skin. She fought back the stinging in her eyes by splashing some water on her face before heading back to the dorm and collapsing onto her bed, listening absent-mindedly to the hum of the other inmates' talk.

 _"Daddy, can I have some juice?"_

 _"Mhm," came the reply, muffled behind a newspaper._

 _"And a pop tart, too?"_

 _"Absolutely, of course. For sure," the voice said again. The little girl with shoulder-length hair squinted, her eyes suspicious._

 _"Daddy, can I run away and live with dogs and steal money and smoke old cigarettes from the floor?" She asked once more._

 _"Yep, yep, of course."_

 _The girl flung herself onto the floor and sighed. Just as she suspected: he wasn't listening. She sat in a sulk before smiling slowly and jumping up, pushing the unruly hair away from her face. With a skip, she opened the fridge, grabbed a carton of juice and began clambering up the counter in order to reach the pop tarts in the cupboard._

 _Once toasted, she sauntered past the face still hidden in a newspaper and out through the front door, down the elevator and out onto the street. After five minutes passing through the cold streets of Brooklyn, she stopped at an alcove in an old-fashioned building. Squatting down to sit in its shallow depths, the girl smiled at the 'M' she had carved in the wall with a piece of glass she had found and enjoyed her snack in her favourite place._

The arrival of Gloria and the Hispanics in the kitchen meant that Mali found herself out of a job. She was good at doing nothing, but sitting on her bed wedged between the wall and the locker with nobody to talk to wasn't particularly fun, especially in her condition. She hugged her knees as she started another fit of shaking, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

 _One, two, three, four…_ Mali counted and counted in her mind, rocking back and forth slightly. _…thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three…_

"Hey, there you are! We missed you at dinner… Mal?"

Morello had approached Mali's cube but stopped just short of the entrance when she saw the state she was in.

"Jesus Christ!" Came another voice which could only have belonged to Nicky, who swooped in next to the shaking girl. She put her hands on Mali's shoulders to brace the younger inmate.

"Hey, hey, look at me," she said, shaking her. Mali closed her eyes as if praying to be in a different situation before looking up, biting her lip to stop it trembling. Nicky looked her up and down and furrowed her brow. _How pathetic must I look right now?_ Mali wondered, looking down at the red marks her nails had made in her palm. Nicky pulled herself so that she was next to Mali, both their backs against the wall. One arm was draped around both of Mali's shoulders, whilst the other was being handed tissues from a hovering Morello. The last thing she expected was to have been comforted. It was all so strange and unfamiliar that she couldn't help but let out a sob. Her head fell onto the shoulder of the older inmate and the tears started to flow. The grip tightened on her own shoulder as Nicky dabbed her face with the tissue.

"Th-thanks, Nicky," She whispered, surprising herself at how weak her voice was.

And she meant it: Mali was immensely grateful - not just for the comfort. For whatever reason, the older inmate hadn't asked any questions, like most people would. Mali was so used to people sticking their noses where they shouldn't belong that she had learnt to be independent in most things. But in here, things were different. There was no easy escape in pill or powder form that could make things better. The only thing in here is a shit-load of people and Mali was glad one of them seemed to understand.

It was good to have a rock.

"It's alright, kid. I got you."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N - This chapter's comparatively longer than the others, so let me know how that works out...**

 **Thank you thank you!**

 _"Come on, Mali. Cheer up!" Louie said, giving her a friendly shove. Cass grabbed her arm and leaned on her shoulder as the three walked down the empty street._

 _"Yeah. I refuse to let your home drama get in the way of today. It's a milestone, for fuck's sake!"_

 _With that final comment, she raised her bottle and took a swig, before throwing it into the road. Louis took Mali's other arm and offered her a joint. He pouted his lip and put on his best puppy eyes._

 _"Please, please, please? I made it, 'specially for you. It's got the magic ingredient in it!" He said, winking. With a roll of her eyes Mali smiled, taking it and inhaling deeply. The three stopped and squatted down onto the sidewalk, unwilling to walk any further. This part of the city got so quiet after midnight. The only sound was the ever-present traffic somewhere off in the distance, a siren making a surprise appearance every so often._

 _Mali's phone buzzed._

New message from: Dad

 _A surge of hope ran through her as she fumbled with the lockscreen, her hands numb from the cold._

Just got to hotel. Conference starts at 9.

 _The joint definitely helped, but Mali couldn't push down the ball of anger inside. She was used to him not giving a shit, but forgetting his daughter was turning eighteen had to be the height of his assholery._

 _"Dude, I'm freezing my ass off. Can we go someplace else?" Cass asked, already standing up. Louis turned and tried the fire door directly behind them. After rattling it for a bit, it gave way. Without thinking, the three teenagers stormed in._

 _"Woah. There's so many like... Books and shit," Mali said, gazing up at the dusty shelves towering above them. She stumbled towards a worn sofa and fell into it, still smoking the 'special' joint._

 _Louis took another out of his pocket, lighting it as he sat in a chair, his legs draping over the armrest._

" _Hey, we should have like… a party, or somethin', Mali. I know a guy… who knows this guy… whose brother has a dealer who has those tiny little colourful pill things!"_

" _Shit, you can't trust that stuff. I heard they're making it fake," Cass said, swiping Louis' cigarette from him. "Besides, you need people for a party… and Mali doesn't have any friends!" The half-Russian threw a pillow at Cass before laughing, and the others joined in. It wasn't even that funny, but the three couldn't help themselves; they were in hysterics. Cass wiped a tear from her eye before collapsing next to Mali on the sofa._

" _I wouldn't try LSD anyway. My mom'd rage."_

" _Should've recorded my parents' reaction when they found one of my needles. They looked like that kid from Home Alone, y'know?" Louis put his hands up to his face. "Michael… Mackully… Mackleroy…"_

" _It's Macaulay, dumbass," Cass corrected, before they started another round of laughter. As it died down the three went quiet. Mali looked up at the old rafters of the library and closed her eyes, scoffing._

" _My dad wouldn't give a shit."_

Mali walked down the corridor behind Fischer. She didn't know what – or rather, who – to expect or hope for. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to see anybody. Life at Litchfield was so separate that a connection with the outside world would just confuse her all over again.

The room was filled with tables and chairs – inmates on one side, visitors on the other. She scanned the room apprehensively before her eyes fell on the one empty chair. Opposite was a middle-aged man: her dad.

 _Sitting in his fucking suit. Wearing his fucking tie. Stroking his fucking beard like he thinks he's some kind of motherfucking Jesus._

It was hard to suppress the contempt she felt for him. She slumped into the chair, cracking her knuckles to distract her from the burning desire to claw his face off. Or hug him. She wasn't quite sure which. He smiled weakly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.

"Hey, Mali-boo-"

"Don't call me that," Mali snapped. She was determined to keep a steely front, and his pet-name for her would just knock it down. But she couldn't ignore his visible recoil at her sharpness. "Not in here, okay? Not in here," she sighed, pushing her hair back. He nodded, scratching his beard.

"So, how are you? You staying outta' trouble I see!" He chuckled awkwardly, before clearing his throat. "Well?"

Mali pursed her lips.

"I'm _fine,_ dad. Really, just A-Okay," she said, making the gesture with her hand. "How was Florida?"

She wanted to divert the conversation as much as she could from her incarcerated life. He didn't deserve to know what she was doing, what the people were like, how the food was. The idea of so much as mentioning Red to him was repulsive.

"Florida was great, actually! They booked us in for the whole week at this swanky hotel. Smith and I were actually talking about getting membership when I got the call…" he trailed off, tapping his fingers on the table. "Why did you do it, Mali? Do you have any idea what it did to me, hearing you'd landed yourself 5 years in _prison_?"

Mali gripped the edge of the table and clenched her jaw. Slowly, dangerously, she looked up at the man in front of her. Her voice was quiet - like the calm before the storm - and dripping in sarcasm.

"What it did to you? I don't know, really. Figured you were so busy drinking martinis with the other corporate fags you wouldn't really give a fuck."

"Oh, come on. That's hardly fair-"

"Fair? _Fair?_ " Her voice was rising now, her pulse beating in her burns. "Let me tell you what's not _fair._ Having your dad fuck off to Florida on your birthday? Not fair. Having your dad _forget_ your birthday? Not fair." She was rising out of her seat now. She didn't care that the hum of conversation had ceased and everyone was watching; _let them watch._ She thought. _Let them see how big of a cunt he is_.

"Oh, I know! Spending my birthday in _jail_ because there was nobody to pick me up? NOT. FUCKING. FAIR."

Her hand was shaking as she pushed back her hair. There was so much she wanted to say, but not enough words in the dictionary to get them out. Her lip was trembling and her eyes were stinging as she looked at the man before her.

"I had to take myself to court, dad," her voice was hoarse from shouting. He got up and reached for her arm but she jerked away.

"Don't touch me! I needed you and you weren't there. YOU WERE NEVER FUCKING THERE," she screamed, backing away from him. At the doorway one final wave of anger passed through her and she kicked the vending machine. "Fuck off, dad. Fuck _off!_ "

"That's enough, Black!" The CO on duty called. Mali raised her hands and backed out, with a final glare at her visitor.

Outside the room she noticed a bunch of inmates had gathered to watch her performance. Cheeks burning, she marched past the snickering and remarks of "Daddy issues", wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. As she rounded the corner she ran straight into Red. She stepped back for a second before launching herself at her, wrapping her arms around the Russian. Red tensed for the briefest of moments before returning the hug, rocking her slightly.

"Visitation?" She asked soothingly.

"Visitation," Mali replied, her voice muffled by Red's clothes.

Red prised herself from the young inmate and held her by the shoulders.

"People are fickle fucks, Malikova. Come, we'll go back to the dorm and you can tell me how shitty they are."

Back in the dorm there were a couple people milling around. Red led Mali to her bed where a colourful blanket was laid out. Mali imagined the Russian had kept this bunk for years: her possessions were sprawled all around the cube. They sat on the edge of the bed and Red placed her hand on top of Mali's. She had no idea where to start… it was almost as if he wasn't worth mentioning. She smiled and looked up at the concerned Russian.

"My dad… is an asshole," she said slowly. She chuckled. It seemed almost petty now: her outburst seemed worlds away from the quiet, well-lit dorm she was in – out of place. _She_ was out of place. She clenched her fist, cracking the knuckles.

"When I saw him, I just… I couldn't control my anger, Red. Y'know? He tried to make it seem like there was nothin' wrong," she continued, shaking her head. Her eyes were stinging again, but she refused to cry. At that moment Chapman, Red's bunkmate, walked in. The blonde and the redhead had a silent stand-off, but Chapman refused to back down. With a sigh, Red turned her focus back towards Mali and squeezed her hand as the blonde sat cross-legged on her own bed, reading. Mali looked across from her tentatively. The last thing she needed was an audience, but Chapman seemed fully engrossed in her book (or at least pretended to be).

Another squeeze of her hand urged Mali to continue talking, but she had lost her train of thought.

"What happened in there, Mali?" Red pressed. Mali scoffed and shook her head.

"I dunno, Red. He got to me. I had a whole tactic planned. I was gonna be cold… not give him the satisfaction…" she pushed her hair back. The tears were already starting and she sniffed. _How pathetic can you get, Mali?_ She thought disdainfully. She never used to cry, because she didn't need people's pity. But there was something quietly soothing about the Russian. She reminded her a lot of her own mom – well, what she could remember of her, at least. Reaching this conclusion gave her the strength to look up at Red. "I just lost it. He was talking 'bout how my incarceration's such an _inconvenience_ for him… that it's not _fair_ …" She sighed, her breath hitching. She looked down at the floor, turning over the past events in her mind.

"I was alone, Red. I was completely alone… and I still am," the comment was made not only for Red but herself, too. She was alone. Nobody in the outside world gave a shit about her, and the thought was overwhelming. Her lip trembled and her arms started to shake, but were quickly stopped as the Russian cradled her.

"You're not alone, Malikova. Not in here," She soothed, stroking her hair.

The young inmate cried into her shoulder, sobs stifled by the grey fabric, and allowed herself to be held. Mali remembered with sudden alarm that they weren't alone in the cube. Glancing up, she saw Chapman looking straight back at her. But the look was soft, she realised.

Like she knew exactly how shitty Mali felt.

 **Fun Fact: I wanted to write '** **Red led Mali to her bed where a colourful blanket was spread' before realising it was starting to sound like a Dr Seuss book. Orange is the New Green Eggs and Ham, anybody?**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - Welcome to chapter 6, which was finished at 3AM!**

 **If this doesn't make me dream about Orange tonight I don't know what will.**

 **Update: I didn't f*cking dream about Orange, what the frickity frack.**

"You can't tell Red, a'ight? No look, Mal, don't tell her. She's got enough shit to deal with as it is."

That had been Nicky's advice for Mali following her withdrawal breakdown.

She was right of course: being thrown out of the kitchen she'd been running for twenty years and then being shunned by her family had taken its toll on the Russian. She didn't seem so... Spiky. Her face showed her age now that there wasn't a permanent layer of flour serving as if it were foundation and without Norma by her side she looked almost vulnerable.

The selfish part of Mali found the whole situation pretty damn inconvenient. She hadn't thought much about it after Visitation; she was just thankful to have someone to talk to. But whilst Red had welcomed her into her own life and sub-sequentially the family's, Mali hardly knew the others. Picking a sixty-something year old over a bunch of inmates was dumb by anyone's book, but Red was someone she'd rather have in her life than out of it. Besides, what loyalties did she have to them anyways? And it wasn't like the whole family was cutting her off; Nicky still talked to her... And if she did, that probably means Morello did, too.

 _So what the fucking fuck do you do?!_ Mali thought, gazing at the ceiling on her bunk. She had run through most scenarios in her mind, but still couldn't conclude which was most likely. _Was the hairnet Gina threw some kind of unspoken oath of allegiance?_ She wondered for the umpteenth time before making a decision as to what to do next.

She heaved herself up from the bed and out of the cube, not bothering with her shoes. She padded down the dorm until she reached her stop. With a dull knock on the concrete wall she spoke.

"Red..?"

The woman was sitting in her own bed, the colourful blanket folded and propped behind her back. She looked up from behind her glasses and smiled a defeated kind of smile.

"Hello, Mali."

She looked at the foot of the bed and back at the younger inmate, signalling her to sit. Mali obliged, perching on the navy blanket. She looked down at her hands as she cracked her knuckles.

"Thing is, Red, this whole thing that happened... Y'know, Gina and them ignorin' you..."

 _Shit, this is harder than I thought._

"...And I, well, uh, I was just tryna' work out-" she trailed off. Red had taken off her glasses and was now looking right at Mali, her steely eyes boring into her. Still fiddling with her hands, she looked up to meet the Russian's gaze.

Rather than an expression of fury or confusion, Red wore a smile. A small, upwards curve of the lips, but nonetheless a smile.

"Do you know what the Russian Mafia did to traitors, Mali? They used to find them in the dead of night. Pluck them right from their comfortable little lives. Then, they use whatever they can find. A rock, a pipe. A book," her eyes flicked down to the one by her side. "And they bludgeon him to death. They put the body into a freezer to preserve what's left. Only when his dick is sent to them in the post does his family realise what has happened."

Mali's eyes widened as Red recalled this tidbit of information. Her mouth went dry and she fiddled relentlessly with the hem of her shirt. A warm hand with chipped nail polish seized her wrist, causing her to look up at the Russian.

"You are no traitor, Mali," her smile widening as she chuckled. "You should have seen your face!" She laughed, imitating Mali's expression. She patted the girl's wrist before continuing, her voice regaining seriousness as quickly as she had lost it.

"You have no obligation to me, my dear. You talk to the people you want... Within reason," her eyes followed a pair of inmates who had just walked in, one with flat, blonde hair and a taller one with hideous teeth. "I never meant to hurt Gina, you know that, yes? I don't want to hurt any of you. You can tell me whatever you need to. I'm here."

 _Guess that sorts that, then. You're part of Red's family as far as Red's concerned._

"I mean it, Malikova. You can tell me anything. Even what Nicky wants you to keep from me."

 _Jesus fucking shit, how the fuck does she know?!_

Mali clasped her hands together to stop them shaking.  
"I-I was going to tell you... I just, didn't, y'know-"  
"It's okay. Nicky's always been like that. Doesn't want to give me a heart attack and send me off early," Red chuckled. Determined to get out of the conversation before Red told her any more of her own secrets, Mali stumbled over her words as she smoothed down her shirt.

"I'm gonna get some lunch. Do uh, do you wanna come with?"

"It's okay, Mali. You go on ahead," she said calmly. Mali jumped up and headed straight for the exit of the dorm.

"Shoes, Malikova," a voice called behind. Burning red, she steamed back into the room and out again moments later, desperately trying to ignore the smirking Red.

The cafeteria was already bubbling with chatter by the time Mali arrived. Carrying a tray of potato and some kind of meat, she found Morello sitting alone.

"No runs today?" She asked, plopping herself down opposite the driver.

"Nope. Been down at Sophia's," she said casually, making a big show of playing with her hair.

"Looks great!" Mali replied with the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. Satisfied with the response, Morello leaned in.

"So how are things? You okay?" Her brown eyes were full of concern, though why, Mali couldn't quite tell. She shrugged and nodded, unsure how else to reply. They continued the meal silently.

 _"Fuck it, I'm goin' home," Louis said, heaving himself out of the plush armchair. Cass followed, tripping over the low coffee table and giggling._

 _"You coming, Mali?" She asked at the doorway. Mali waved the joint lazily._

 _"Can't waste good shit, Cass. I'll see you later."_

 _And with that, she was alone._

 _"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me!" She sang, laughing at her own voice. She threw the joint behind the sofa and lay back. The woola was making her eyes heavy and she was already feeling so warm..._

 _The warmth had turned to heat. Blistering heat. Mali opened her eyes groggily and blinked. Where was she? It was hard to tell through all the smoke. Her face was stinging. She put her hand to her cheek and it felt... Raw. Slowly turning around she saw a wall of fire. The flames were licking the sofa she was just on and there was a deafening roar._

 _"It's beautiful..." She said aloud, sitting on the coffee table directly in front of the inferno. Her eyes were glazed, transfixed on the fire. If she listened closely, she was sure she could hear it talking to her..._

 _"Evacuate the street!"_

 _Mali furrowed her brow. That's a funny thing to say. She thought. Before she could finish asking what the fire meant, a hand seized her arm._

 _"Well well. This doesn't look good for you. Ay, Captain! Think we got ourselves a little fire starter!"_

Mali stared at the line across Gina's neck. It was pink and splotchy. A burn mark. Her head pulsed as she recalled the smell of burning paper.

She knew it was wrong to stare but she couldn't help it. _Is that what I look like..?_ She asked herself, self-consciously putting a hand up to her cheek.

"Guess we're burn buddies now," Gina said scathingly, nodding towards Mali, who looked down immediately.

"What's going on here? You look like you're havin' a funeral," came the voice of Nicky, who sat down next to Mali.

"Just talking 'bout our bond. Hey, maybe this is Red's way of branding us as hers! Literally."

The venom in Gina's voice was unnerving. She threw her fork onto her tray and stormed out, Norma following close behind. Nicky watched them - or at least watched Gina's scar - as they left, before her eyes darted to Mali's face.

The younger inmate casually picked at her food, though she was clearly fooling nobody - especially not Nicky.

"Don't worry about her, a'ight? She's just pissed off in general. Not with you," she said, giving Mali's arm a reassuring squeeze.

"I know, I know. Just, having these damn scars on my face... It's like being a target in here."

A scrawny, blonde inmate who was walking past stopped and put her tray on the table, leaning in.

"Do you know what a Mandala is?"

Nicky rolled her eyes and lifted the inmate's tray for her to take.

"Fuck outta here, Jones. She doesn't need your hippy dippy yakety yak."

Mali couldn't help but laugh at her brutal honesty. Encouraged by her response, Nicky went on to pinch her cheek (completely unfazed by the scar) and speak in the most patronising voice Mali had ever heard from anybody.

"She don't need it cuz' this wittle prison baby's already too fucked up!"

Mali flicked Nicky's hand away from her cheek, transitioning it into giving her the finger.

"And fuck you too," she said half-heartedly through her smile.

 **So you got the best of both worlds in this chapter: Scenes with Red AND Nicky!  
** **I feel bad for Morello. I always add her in as a transition then forget about her. What do I do?!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N - Ask for more Nicky and Ye shall receive! I had a lot of fun writing this, to be honest. It's based off those fantastic moments in life when all you can do is laugh until it hurts, but it's okay. After all… "** _ **Pain is always there. Suffering is a choice". ;)**_

 **Thank you, thank you!**

Things were starting to get excruciatingly boring for Mali. It had been almost a week since she had lost her short lived job in the kitchen and her freedom - if you could call it that - had quickly lost its novelty.

A visit to Mr Healy's office made her feel productive, but the fact still remained she was out of a job.

"Can't you just give me a spot back in Kitchen?" She asked, folding her arms and leaning back in the chair. Mr Healy looked at her from behind his spectacles and slowly opened Mali's file.

"I did a little research on you, Black. Let's see… Malikova Black. 18. Offence: Drug Abuse and Indirect Arson!" He said triumphantly, before knitting his fingers together. "Do you really think we're going to trust you with fire?"

"You did the first time 'round," she quipped back. "Look, Mr Healy. I just want an assignment. Please. I don't have any way of putting some cash into my commissary account - not since Visitation, anyway-"

"What happened at Visitation?" Healy asked, more out of nosiness than concern.

"Me and my dad had a uh… Disagreement," she spat, feeling the anger slowly build back up.

"Family can be tough. I get that. I'm sorry," he said, almost sounding sincere. The cogs started turning in Mali's head as she looked at the aging man in front of her. She didn't claim to be the smartest girl in the world, but she prized her ability to read and manipulate people when the situation called for it. She suddenly looked down and sniffed.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, wiping a fake tear from her eye and trembling her lip. "I just want my dad to be _happy!_ " She exclaimed before launching into another round of fake tears and weeping. It worked a charm. As she continued to snivel, he began writing out a form for re-assignment, ticking the first box on the list: Electrical.

 _Isn't that the second best place to start a fire after Kitchen?_ She mused, though said nothing. She could hardly believe that performance worked. _What an idiot._ She thought, wondering what else she might be able to get out of the counsellor.

"You'll be working down at Electrical effective immediately," Healy said, drawing the inmate out of her reverie. She nodded quickly and left, before heaving a sigh of relief on the other side of the door.

 _11 cents is better than being broke._

She pulled the sleeves of her hoodie down over her hands as she walked out into the crisp autumn morning. There were golden leaves on the ground which Mali made a point to walk through and hear the satisfying crunch as her boot landed on them. The noise from Electrical gradually got louder and louder as she approached the shed, until there was a distinct cacophony of power drills and hammers on nails.

The CO in charge - Luschek - exited the building, oblivious to Mali's presence. He was fumbling with the lid on a small flask when Mali cleared her throat. He jumped, almost spilling whatever was inside.

"Jesus, what the fuck? Oh. It's you," he said, looking Mali up and down for a couple seconds too long. "Healy called ahead. Come on," he said impatiently. He opened the door wide and pushed Mali in front of him.

"Hey, uh, Nichols. Show the new kid what to do, k?" He shouted behind her, before shutting the door to resume what he had intended to do in the first place. Nicky smiled wide and sauntered over to where Mali was standing.

"Well look what the cat dragged in!" She chuckled. "Come on, kid. You've seen how Red runs her part of prison... Time to see how I run mine," she patted her chest and spun around, gesturing for Mali to follow her.

"You get your tools from in here. We each got chips with numbers on them, see?" She jangled a key ring with metal discs on it in front of Mali. "You want a tool? Give a chip. And don't, I dunno, put it into your jacket and leave it there. _Right Chapman_?" She asked, getting the finger from the blonde inmate opposite who didn't look up from her lamp. They continued further into the shed, where an enormous manual lay on the wooden table. "Read this, fix that. That's what we do here. Or are _supposed_ to do," she lowered her voice as Luschek returned. "Honestly, Luschek doesn't give a shit - just don't step on his ego, a'ight?" She muttered, before clapping her hands and talking at a normal volume. "So… What have we learnt?" She asked patronisingly - like a kindergarten teacher would after reading a story about sharing - a smile playing on her lips. Mali looked at the table and picked up a hammer and some kind of motor. She tapped the hammer on it, looked up at Nicky and said, in her dumbest voice, "bonk."

The older inmate laughed, sarcastically clapping.

"Gold star for you, eh? Come on, I wanna show you my hole," she said, tugging Mali's sleeve. _She really loves Electrical._ She thought. Like a kid showing off all their Lego inventions. Nicky patted the concrete fondly, just above a sizeable hole in the wall. She reached over one of the tables and presented one of the power drills to Mali.

"Seriously?" She asked. Nicky bowed her head and thrust it forward, as if it were some kind of honour. Mali laughed at the ridiculousness of it all and took the drill. It was heavier than she expected and she almost dropped it, and she couldn't figure out how to start it.

"It's the little orange switch thingy, right… There," Nicky said, poking it. Mali heaved it up so that the drill was pointing into the hole and switched it on. The tool whirred to life and lunged forward, almost smacking Mali into the wall too had Nicky not grabbed her shoulder to keep her grounded. The young inmate clicked the drill off, still in shock from the power of the tool.

"So maybe you aren't ready for the big kids' toys huh?" Nicky said, gently pushing Mali back towards the table with the manual. "Here, we'll sit here with the other technologically-inept moron and learn how to change a lightbulb," she chuckled, sitting opposite Chapman once more. She took a desk lamp with an empty socket and a lightbulb, holding the two up.

"Observe the master at work," she said modestly, putting the bulb into the socket. There was a sudden flash of sparks and an outcry of profanities from Nicky.

"Maybe try unplugging the lamp beforehand?" Piper suggested innocently. Nicky didn't seem hurt, but the voltage had made her already-frizzy hair even more unruly, making her look like a distorted lion. Mali couldn't help but giggle. She tried hiding it behind her sleeve at first, but one look at Nicky's face tipped her over the edge. The electrocuted inmate raised her eyebrows before grinning and laughing with her. As they regained their composure Nicky shook her head.

"I shoulda let that drill smash you into the wall," she said half-heartedly. Mali slowly looked at her, biting her sleeve to stop her giggling… As soon as their eyes met however they were in hysterics again, laughing for no reason in particular like a pair of lunatics. Mali couldn't remember the last time she had laughed to the point where her cheeks hurt, but it had been a long, _long_ time ago.

In the cafeteria the three Electrical inmates were joined by Morello and Big Boo - an inmate who truly lived up to her name.

"Where'd you three come from then?" She asked as she sat down.

"Electrical. Mali's her new protégée," Chapman replied, waving her fork between Nicky and Mali.

"Oh, so you're Electrical now huh? How's that then?" Morello asked. It was an innocent question, but so far almost everything had triggered the pair's laughter; they could hardly look at each other.

"Yeah it's uh… Great," She said, voice wavering on the last word as she fought down the giggles. She pursed her lips, nodding, trying her best not to succumb. She looked down at her food, a smile creeping onto her face. "Bit of a _shock_ , really,"

Nicky almost choked on her water, and Mali was already laughing silently, still looking down at her tray. She glanced sideways at the other inmate, who looked back at her. And they were off for the millionth time, laughing away like hyenas.

"... I don't get it," Morello said, looking at Chapman for help.

"Don't bother. They haven't stopped laughing since Nicky got an electric shock," she answered, a mix of both amusement and irritation present in her voice.

"Come on, Mal," Nicky said, wiping a tear from her eye. Before continuing dramatically: "Our happiness is clearly not welcome!"

Mali snorted, nodding her head. She managed one feeble wave of goodbye before the two left, leaning on each other for support as they chuckled their way out of the cafeteria.

"Did they have some, y'know," Morello made a drinking gesture. Chapman smiled, shaking her head and shrugging. Boo was following the pair with her eyes as she picked at her food idly.

"Nah. That little one's just as batshit crazy as Nicky, that's all."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N - Another chapter! I feel I should pace myself better, or else I'll run out of things to write about… guess I'll just have to rewatch the series and get some inspiration. Pity.**

Despite it being late February, the wind still had a nasty bite to it. Mali pulled her hood over her head and looked down as she walked back towards the main building. Looking at the ground directly in front of her feet still, she didn't notice the figure on the other side of the entrance, who stumbled as the young inmate pushed it open.

"Crap, I'm sorry!" She said, squeezing through the small gap of the half opened door. Facing her were three inmates: a tall, middle-aged woman - the one Mali had bumped, a larger one with two puffy bunches, and… Crazyeyes. She began to move away but the older inmate caught her sleeve, examining her face. When she was satisfied, she spoke in a calm voice.

"That's alright."

She released the girl and Mali walked quickly, eager to get away from whatever it was she'd just interrupted.

She felt uneasy for the whole day. There was something cold in that inmate's eyes which Mali couldn't shake off. During lunch she felt watched, and whilst Chapman dismissed it as paranoia, Red later seemed to confirm her suspicions.

"You did _what_?!" She asked in disbelief after Mali recalled her morning encounter. "Did she hurt you? Are you hurt? Are you okay?" The Russian was searching the girl's face for any indication of an attack, but all that was there was confusion.

"I'm fine, Red. She said it was okay, I mean, she was nice enough-"

"Nice, hah!" Red scoffed. "Vee is like a Rottweiler puppy. She'll act nice and innocent then the next thing you know she's pissed all over you."

 _Interesting analogy._ Mali thought, raising her eyebrows. She perched on the edge of the table and watched Red transfer plants between pots.

"Don't trust her, Mali," she said finally. She walked over to the younger inmate and took her hands. They were warm, a sharp contrast to the outside weather. "I mean it. Promise me you won't listen to a word she says."

Mali nodded and smiled.

"I won't. Promise. She gives me the creeps anyways," she answered, and squeezed Red's hands reassuringly. The Russian smiled slightly, patting her on the cheek.

"Good girl. So, are you going to help me plant these or will you just sit there and do nothing, hm?" She asked lightly, waving towards the row of pots on the table opposite. Mali hopped down and backed towards the door, grinning.

"Yeah, I just remembered. I have to be uh… Not here," with a thumbs up, she left the greenhouse.

The TV room was empty but for a cluster of inmates watching an old episode of _Dog Whisperer_. Sitting at a table in the corner, Mali took a deck of cards and began to play a game Louis had once taught her. Fully engrossed in her game, she didn't notice another inmate walk up to her table until she sat, leaning forward.

"Whuzzat?" She asked. Looking up to see who had asked, Mali saw the inmate with puffy hair. She swallowed hard.

"Clock," she mumbled. She tried to ignore the observing inmate as she put a King into the middle of her setup.

"You know, I ain't a lackey," the inmate said seemingly out of the blue. "I don't know what you heard but Vee don't own Black Cindy. Nah."

Mali bit her lip and looked up at her dubiously.

 _What the hell is she playing at?_

Still, she pressed on.

"As a token of trust, I will present you with this," she slid a small bag across the table, smirking. Mali's jaw fell open at the site of the unmistakeable white powder it contained. Black Cindy pushed her chair back and tapped her fingers on the table.

"If you want more, just ask. Big C'll hook you up for the right price," she said proudly. With a wink, she strolled out of the room.

Mali's eyes fell back to the bag in front of her. Red's voice echoed in her mind, but her cravings shouted louder. She swiped the heroin and stuffed it down her waistband, hoping to God nobody saw her. The card game had suddenly lost its appeal; there was only one thing which Mali wanted to do. She got up and walked slowly to the exit, wondering where she could go. Something gripped her arm - a hand. Red's hand.

"I saw you talking to Hayes. What did she want? Was she threatening you?"

 _Shit._

"Nah, nothing like that. Honest. She just wanted to see what I was playing," Mali pointed at the window looking into the TV room. She felt awful for lying to Red, but the longing inside her was too much. The Russian's iron grip loosened into a gentle touch and she nodded, seemingly happy with her answer.

"Shall we get something to eat?" She asked, already walking in the direction of the cafeteria. Mali was aching inside, but decided to keep Red happy. _She won't be happy for long though, you selfish bitch…_ a guilty voice said in her mind.

They joined their usual group in the cafeteria, Mali plonking herself down next to Nicky. Conversation flowed easily and temporarily took the young inmate's mind off of things. They had somehow gotten onto the topic of Morello's hair, and the - innovative - use of toilet paper as curlers.

"I don't care what you say, my hair's still better than all of yous put together," she said in her defence, combing through it with her fingers. "Softer, too."

They all laughed, Mali reaching across the table to feel for herself.

"Like a baby's ass," She chuckled to the rest of the table who smiled - all except Nicky.

"Hey, can I talk to you real quick?" She asked, her eyebrows raised. As they got up she turned back to the table to speak. "Electrical stuff."

She gripped Mali's elbow and guided her out of the cafeteria, down the corridor and into an empty stairwell. She spun her around and pulled the younger inmate's shirt up slightly, revealing the heroin bag. She grabbed it and held it up, squinting her eyes.

"What the fuck is this?" She said sharply, pointing at the bag. "Huh? Are you _trying_ to screw yourself over?!" Her aggression had caused Mali to step back, so her back was pressed against the wall. Nicky ran a hand through her hair, pacing up and down, before stopping directly in front of Mali once more. She pursed her lips and spoke quietly. "What the fuck, Mal?"

Her eyes were burning with anger. Angry with Mali, who was too young and stupid to know better. Angry with Vee, who preyed on the weak like some sick coyote. Angry with herself, for not figuring this out sooner.

Mali's mouth was dry. There was no good answer. Her eyes darted around the stairwell, determined not to meet Nicky's glare.

"I just… I dunno, Nicky, she just gave it to me!" She could hardly believe she was justifying herself. "And I just thought… I thought that if, shit, if I could just have a go... just one more time…" She was smiling in disbelief now, realising how dumb it must have sounded. "I don't know, okay. It's hard to explain."

She ran a hand through her hair. Accepting defeat, she slid down the wall and sat, her knees drawn up to her body. But Nicky wasn't done and still stared at her, deadpan.

"You thought that you'd be able to escape this shitty world for a second. You thought you _might_ get that feeling like your first time. Right?"

 _Hitting the nail right on the head…_

Mali nodded slowly. She wanted to ask the her how she knew when Nicky scoffed, sitting down against the opposite wall. She pulled the neckline of her shirt down to reveal the tip of a scar.

"You don't get that feeling again, kid. _Ever_. Feels good, but it's not what you want,"

Mali wanted to believe Nicky, she really did. But there was a voice in her mind that was screaming for her to grab the bag and run. Her fingers twitched and she folded her arms to stop them shaking.

"Mali."

She looked up at the inmate opposite her, who was already standing, an sad smile playing on her lips.

"You're better than that. Okay?"

She bit her lip and nodded, taking the outstretched arm to get up. Once she was standing, Nicky brushed a loose bit of hair behind the younger inmate's ear.

"I mean it, Mal. You're better than that. C'mere," she pulled Mali into a hug. "I don't want you to end up like Trish. You're both just dumb fuckin' kids, only she's now six feet under..." Nicky's grip tightened. "That's not happening again."

Slowly but surely, the screaming in Mali's mind began to dissipate, as if warded away by the mere presence of the frizzy-haired Junkie.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N - To answer your question** _ **Cegahkk7**_ **, yeah, they have all made up. I just didn't feel like writing up the greenhouse scene - maybe I will in the future, but I'll need to watch the episode to remind myself!**

 **I felt like writing something sorta fluffy, so here's Chapter 9!**

"Is it true? He's gone?"

"Saw it with my own eyes."

"About fucking time, too!"

There was a buzz about Litchfield that afternoon. People were murmuring excitedly to eachother, smirking, acting out scenes of someone being taken away.

Mali made her way to her dorm and found herself walking to Red's cube. The Russian was talking with - or rather, to - Norma, making fierce hand gestures. The young inmate flopped onto the bed, not bothering for an invitation; Red never seemed to mind. Lying on her back, she shifted her head so that she could see the older inmate, who was looking down at her with triumph in her eyes.

"What?" Mali asked. It was rare to see Red in such a joyous mood.

"I'm just happy. Can a woman not be happy?" She retorted cryptically. When no cheeky reply came, Red turned slightly so her body was facing the younger inmate, examining her face. Mali's brow was furrowed and she puckered her lips slightly: she was confused, to say the least.

Red chuckled and turned to Norma.

"She really has no idea!" And the mute smiled gently. Turning her attention back to the bemused girl, she leaned in.

"That Mendez dickhead is gone," she whispered, the glint back in her eyes. Mali sat up and stared at Red, mouth hanging open. "Really, Mali. You didn't know?" The Russian chuckled again.

"So he's the one - everyone's talking -" Mali was thinking aloud, piecing together what she'd heard throughout the prison. "And the- ...wait," she stopped, remembering one of the whispers darting around the corridor. Her eyes widened. "He _fucked_ her?!"

Red and Norma smiled, watching the cogs turn in Mali's mind. She ran a hand through her her hair as she fell back onto the bed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Damn,"

They were silent for a while - Mali processing everything that had happened, Red watching her intently.

"He was why I lost my kitchen," She eventually said. Mali turned over so she was on her side, propping her head up on her elbow.

"Used the food trucks to bring in drugs," she continued, clenching her fists. _There's a touchy subject._ Mali thought. "When things didn't go his way he took me down with him," her Russian accent was doused in venom. She raised her eyebrows and gazed into space.

"I lost everything because of that piece of shit."

Normal put a reassuring hand on Red's shoulder, silently reminding her that she still had her family. Red held Norma's hand in place gently, acknowledging the gesture. But it didn't stop the woe creeping into her features. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes glistened, as though she were reliving the memories in her mind.

Mali exchanged a worried look with Norma before pushing herself up so that she was sitting next to Red, crossed legged on the bunk. She had never been the best at comforting, but sometimes all that was needed was a little empathy.

She thought back to the first time she'd set foot in the bunk. Puffy-eyed and trembling, she was embraced by the Russian, held close, protected. Her entire world had fallen around her and Red picked up the pieces, stroking her hair and holding her hand. When Mali felt like she had nobody, Red was there.

And she'd be damned if she wasn't going to do the same.

She linked the Russian's arm with her own and shook it gently.

"You still got us, Red." Norma nodded furiously in agreement. Mali ducked her head to see Red's face as she looked down at the floor, a smile creeping over her lips. "You're _Red,_ damn it! No pornstache could ever take us from you, not really."

Red looked at her then, her eyes hopeful. Spurred on by the look on her face, Mali continued.

"Norma, Gina, Morello, Nicky… They all need you," she gave Red's hand a squeeze, just like the older inmate would've done had the roles been reversed. "Shit, _I_ need you,"

She shifted in her spot so that she could wrap both arms around her in some sort of side-on bear hug. Resting her head against Red's, she rocked them both gently.

" _Come on, Mali! Go sleep!" Her mother pleaded._

" _Niet!" A defiant answer came from the three year old, crossing her arms at the doorway. That seemed to be her favourite word._

 _She scuttled over to the couch where her mother sat and held up her arms. With a sigh, the woman picked her up and settled her by her side, her arm cradling the bundle of pajamas. Mali idly played with her mother's long hair, comparing it to her own._

 _The TV in the background began to play soothing piano and Mali's eyes became heavy. The theme song had always succeeded in calming the girl's racing mind as she nestled into the crook of her mother's arm and closed her eyes._

Red rocked back and forth with Mali, the rhythm soothing her thumping heart. She sighed deeply, closing her eyes. Mali looked up at her and grinned.

"Glazki zakryvay, Bayu-buy."

Red opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow at the smiling girl, whose arms were still around her. She patted her knee and chuckled.

"Sometimes I forget you're half-Ruski, Mali."

"That's not fair. _Moy russkiy_ is… It's uh…" She furrowed her brow in concentration, trying to remember the word for 'good'.

"Shit," Red finished for her. The half-hearted mocking seemed to have rekindled her spirit, and she was back to her fiery self. "Right. I think a celebration is in order."

Mali's arms fell away as Red stood up, her mind formulating an idea. She spun around to her two visitors, the glint in her eye alight with inspiration.

"Norma, meet me in the greenhouse in ten minutes. Mali, have everybody here by six," she began marching out of the dorm - dead-set on whatever it was she was planning.

Mali looked at Norma, who was as confused as she was. She shook her head: both knew better than to interfere with Red on a mission.

A glance at the wall clock told Mali she had half an hour to round everybody up.

Starting with rounds of C-Block, she found Gina, knitting some kind of scarf.

"Red wants everybody in her cube at 6," Mali said, peering over the wall partition. A nod told her she'd heard, leaving the messenger to find the rest of the family.

In the corridor she met Chapman, walking the opposite way.

"Hey, Chapman!" She said, jogging to catch up to the blonde inmate. "You seen Morello? Or Nicky? Or DeMarco? ...Or Frieda?"

"That's quite a list. Why?"

"Red," She answered, a universal answer which explained everything.

"Ah. Well, I think I saw DeMarco talking to Mendoza, but she might've-"

"Great. Thanks!" Mali cut her off short as she turned down the corridor leading towards the cafeteria. She spun around and called after Chapman, still walking backwards.

"You should come! Six… Your cube."

 _Two for the price of one._ Mali thought with relief as she caught sight of DeMarco and Nicky sitting at one of the tables. She walked briskly over to them and relayed the message.

"Red wants everybody in her cube at 6," she looked at them and shrugged before they had time to ask questions. "Don't ask, don't know," and she spun around to walk away, before backtracking and sheepishly looking back at the two inmates.

"You haven't seen Morello or Frieda anywhere, have you..?"

She had no luck in the bathrooms, laundry, or library.

 _Four minutes 'till six._

She eventually found Morello in the TV room on her second visit.

"Morello!" She said breathlessly. "Okay, so… Red wants everybody… In her cube at six," She leaned on a chair for support.

"Six? That's like, 5 minutes from now," Morello stated, earning a glare from the younger inmate.

"I know… I've been looking for you all over. You better go, I still need to find Frieda," Mali said in exasperation, pulling a hand through her hair.

With a sigh, she set off, wondering where the hell Frieda could be.

 _Ten minutes past six. Crap._

Mali had given up. She had looked everywhere twice and there was no sight of the elderly inmate. She trudged back into the dorm, wondering if she'd missed anything good.

"Red, I couldn't find-" sitting on a chair by the wall was Frieda.

"Look who decided to show up!" Nicky joked, pointing at Mali.

"But I - how did - what?" The words tumbled out of the befuddled inmate.

"She was in the greenhouse when I got there," Red explained. Dumbfounded and slightly pissed off, Mali sat down on the floor between Chapman and Morello. Laid out in front of her was a mix of commissary junk, smuggled-out lunch food and an array of snacks which only Red could've prepared. The cook herself raised a mug.

"Now that everybody's here-" Morello nudged Mali with her elbow, who slapped it away. "I want to make a toast. To the incarceration of that mother _fucker_."

A mix of cups, mugs, crackers and cookies raised.

"Ding-dong, the witch is dead!" DeMarco said in a singsong voice.

"If only," Frieda muttered.

They continued their feast in high spirits, talking and joking and smiling and laughing. The pile of food slowly diminished until all that was left were wrappers and crumbs. Bellies full, they started a discussion about everything they'd do to Mendez.

"Lock him in a room with Pennsatucky."

"Nah, you gotta wax his 'tache off first. With duct tape…"

"...I'm talking rats… Cheese… Mendez' balls."

The theories and plans overlapped eachother as Mali rested her head against the wall. Morello shuffled backwards and joined her, observing the conversation.

"Crazy, huh?" She said.

"Gina's cheese plan? Yep," Mali smiled.

"Nah, not that," Morello said, tilting her head. "Crazy how weird crap like this brings us together, y'know?"

Mali nodded slowly, watching an argument between Gina and Nicky over the effectiveness of bleach unfold.

 _Crazy indeed._

 **Eee! So if you were wondering, the flashback was to a Russian kids' show -** _ **Spokoynoy nochi, malyshi!**_

 **What Mali said was part of the theme song lyrics - 'Eyes closed, bayu-buy' (The last bit is kind of untranslatable, just what you say in a lullaby). That was fun - and Morello got more than one line!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N - If you have any suggestions for storylines do shoot a message my way! I have a couple events I can think of which I'll get to at some point… but for now I'll just keep plodding forward with plots from the series.**

 **So for now, please enjoy the infamous Storm episode - avec Mali.**

The weather had gotten progressively worse and worse since Mali had arrived. Whilst the work itself wasn't too bad, walking to and from the Electrical shed through sheets of rain and a nippy wind was.

Today was particularly nasty. The rain pounded down on the ground, turning it into a thick mud. There was a howling wind that had whipped Mali's hair into a tangled, wet mess and her grey hoodie did nothing to stop the chill sinking into her skin. Giving up on trying to stay dry, she stopped to looked up at the sky and blinked, batting water drops away from her eyes. The clouds were a greyish-black, casting a shadow on the early December morning. _It's kind of pretty, actually._ She thought as she watched the clouds warp and merge with eachother. There was a flash and a deafening clap of thunder. _Maybe not._ And she hurried onwards to the safety of the shed.

Inside, the floor was streaked brown with mud dragged in on boots and there were small puddles forming around the dripping wet inmates. Without the wind beating away the rain, Mali's clothes stuck to her uncomfortably, trapping the cold. She dragged herself to the usual table and peeled off her hoodie, laying it on the table.

"Quite a storm outside," Chapman commented as the rain pummelled the roof. Mali nodded, picking up a piece of wire and twirling it.

"Chapman, Black. TV's busted. Go fix," an irritatingly dry Luschek called from his desk, not looking up from his magazine. Mali's mouth fell open. _I just got here!_ She thought gloomily, glancing up at the quivering rafters as another round of thunder boomed.

Nicky, her usual sympathetic self, laughed at their miserable faces, switching to an exaggerated pout when Mali glared at her.

"Have fun, kiddos!" She called after them as they stepped out into the storm.

Already soaked, Mali saw little point in trying to keep the rain away from her. Instead she embraced it, turning her face up the sky and allowing the rain to pelt down on it.

"What are you doing?" Chapman shouted, her voice dwarfed by the howling gale. She was already under the cover of the main entrance, shivering in her baggy coat.

Mali turned to face her and shrugged, smiling. _It's more fun than fixing a TV._ She spread her arms wide and twirled, lost in the madness of it all; The thunder seemed far less daunting when she was laughing with it. Striding towards the door of the building, she kicked the waterlogged ground and continued her elaborate dancing. As she neared the concrete on which Chapman stood, she did a final jump into a puddle, spraying mud over her khakis and boots.

The blonde inmate looked at her through squinted eyes, scrutinising.

"Oh come on," Mali said raising her eyebrows in response to the stare. She pushed open both parts of the double doors dramatically, as if announcing the entrance of a king. "Live a little!"

In the TV room there was a gathering of inmates huddled around a small radio. It was tuned into a news station, talking about the damage the storm had already caused.

"

Chapman had already begun inspecting the TV. Shining her torch on its underside, she began unscrewing a panel. There wasn't much Mali could do to help, so she sat in one of the chairs, feet propped up on the table. Reaching forward, she took the TV remote and threw it upwards, letting it spin mid-air before catching it. She missed on her fourth throw, the remote clattering to the floor. The battery panel skidded over the the vinyl and Mali reluctantly got up to retrieve it. As she turned the remote over to fix it, she noticed a distinct lack of batteries in the hole. _That's why I dropped it, the weight was all wrong._ She comforted herself, before remembering why she was there.

"Hey, Chapman! You got batteries in your thingy?" She said, gesturing to the inmate's belt. She threw two down for Mali to catch (which she didn't) and watched as the younger inmate slotted them into the remote with a satisfying click.

She pointed it to the TV, pressed the 'On' button and the screen lit up.

"Ahah!" Mali cried out triumphantly, slamming the remote down in victory. With a theatrical bow, she left, with Chapman coming out close behind her.

The storm had worked its way gradually into the background noise of Litchfield. Only when news of the toilets backing up did the talking start again. The buzz of anticipation had replaced the buzz of electricity when the power cut off, and the announcement of sleeping arrangements had left Red in a tizzy.

Carrying their mattresses and sheets into the bustling cafeteria, she led them to a corner, watching Vee like a hawk the whole time. The family's morale was low: when weight and strength were taken into account, a fight would hardly go in their favour.

Leaning against the wall, Mali whiled away the time playing Bullshit with Gina and Morello. Somewhere in the cafeteria a crappy rendition of _Stay_ was being sung. Eventually Nicky and Chapman lumbered in, the bottom half of their khakis darkened by floodwater. Nicky fell onto the mattress next to Mali and sighed heavily.

"You stink," the younger inmate stated bluntly, wrinkling her nose.

"Nice to see you too, Mal," the sarcastic response came. "Deal me in."

They had transitioned into Blackjack instead, with Norma joining in. Nicky insisted they place bets and so - rather reluctantly - they each placed a collection of commissary and contraband items in the middle. The first round saw Norma take in four candy bars and a packet of cookies in a matter of seconds; Mali couldn't help but wonder if she had been some sort of card sharp before getting incarcerated. The younger inmate was more successful in the second round, taking back her own loot, three packs of instant noodles and a lollipop from Morello, who quickly gave up and went for a walk.

They continued through the night, placing increasingly ridiculous high bets for a laugh.

"What if I got 21 already?" Morello had rejoined the game, showing an Ace and a 10.

"That's Blackjack, genius," Gina replied, pushing a single lipstick towards her.

"How come all I got is this?!" She waved it in the air, looking at each of the other inmates' stacks of winnings.

"Because Norma had Blackjack too," Nicky gestured lazily to the mute, who smiled sympathetically. "All you get is what you betted."

Mali grinned at the crestfallen Morello, unwrapping the lollipop directly in front of her. Perhaps it was the confined space making them all stir-crazy, or just in keeping with the absurdity of the day's events, but before Mali knew what was happening, the Italian-American smiled a mischievous smile and launched herself at the younger inmate, attempting to seize the candy. Mali held it away from her body laughing as she pushed Morello away. She dodged her grabs and quickly shoved the lollipop in her mouth.

"Hah!" She said triumphantly, as the older inmate fell back in defeat.

"Conflict in the ranks?" A questioning voice came from above them. There stood Red, pale as a ghost, eyes alert.

"She started it," Mali said with her mouth full, looking at Morello, who pretended to be shocked at the accusation. Red smiled fondly. There was something comforting about their banter. It took the edge off of things slightly, made her realise what was important. Her eyes glazed over: _this is Vee's target._ Red thought to herself. A look at the wall clock in the dim lantern light told her it was 10 o'clock.

"We'll sleep in shifts. I'll take the first shift. Norma, you next. Then Gina, Nicky, Morello."

She began to walk away.

 _Yo._

Mali looked up and raised her eyebrows.

"What 'bout me?"

Red paused and turned back around.

"We'll be out of here by eight at the latest. No more shifts."

Mali continued to stare dubiously at the back of her head as she walked away; she didn't believe that was the only reason. Still sucking on her lollipop, she sat, thinking. Was there some hidden motive? Why _her_? Should she feel grateful or offended?

Her philosophising was cut short by the return of Red, laden with the Hispanics' impromptu dinner. Reluctantly, she removed the candy from her mouth and chucked it in a tissue, swapping it for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

The food had a widespread effect on the cafeteria and the racket reduced to a gentle murmur.

"I'ma go chuck this," Mali said, heaving herself from the floor with the paper plate in her hand. After sitting for so long (with the brief interlude of Morello's surprise attack) her legs had fallen asleep, and she stumbled as she stepped forward.

"Norma, go with her," Red commanded.

 _I think I can manage 30 feet by myself, thank you very much._

The Russian glanced over to where Vee and her gang sat. "Nobody goes alone."

 _You did..._

They picked their way over blankets and feet towards the trashcans.

"Red's really worked up 'bout Vee, huh," Mali said. Norma made a 'V' with her index and middle finger before sliding them both over her throat in the torchlight.

"Yeah, I know. But she wouldn't try anything with a million people around… would she?"

Norma shrugged. _Was Vee really that psychotic?_ Mali wondered. Red certainly seemed to think so.

Lanterns across the cafeteria began to go out as people settled down to sleep. The few which remained on were like pins on a map, marking different territories. Mali settled herself back down by the wall, next to Nicky.

The glow of the lantern illuminated half of her face, making the shadows in her frown more prominent.

"You okay?" Mali asked quietly, nudging her. The older inmate nodded slowly, emerging from her thoughts.

"I'm great. Really digging this whole slumber party thing, y'know?" Her dry humor never failed to entertain Mali. "You?"

"Feeling 'bout as useful as a chocolate teapot,"she scoffed, before sighing deeply. "What time's your shift?"

"Four 'til five. You're welcome to take it if you want," she chuckled. Noticing the disgruntled look on Mali's face, she temporarily adopted a voice of reason. "Don't take it personal, a'ight? Red's got a lotta' shit to deal with."

They sat in silence for a while before Nicky spoke again. "She probably doesn't want a prison baby like you stayin' up past bedtime, either."

Mali's furious glare was met with wide eyes and an exaggerated pout from the older inmate.

"I hate you," she said, lazily slapping Nicky's leg with the back of her hand.

"Hate you too, kid," she replied, smirking. Mali shuffled in her spot so that her back was brushing the wall, and the light from the lantern was blocked by the older inmate. The rain was drumming rhythmically on the roof and the inmates' chatter had almost ceased completely. Hugging her knees to her chest, Mali felt her eyes becoming heavier and heavier until her surroundings blended into her own thoughts.

She must've dozed off, because she woke up to her pillow shifting. Her head was resting on Nicky's shoulder, whose eyes were trained on something, her brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Mali mumbled groggily, blinking away the sleep. Nicky nodded towards a shadowy figure snaking her way out of the cafeteria: Red.

Instinctively, the younger inmate shifted her glance to where Vee's gang lay sleeping… Though there was no sign of the puppet master herself.

"Shit," Mali muttered, as the Russian disappeared into the dark corridor.

Thunder boomed suitably in the distance. _That's a bad fucking sign._ Mali thought miserably as she exchanged a worried look with her pillow.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N - Slight AU here as I forgot that Fischer got fired. Shh, just pretend like it's all good. :)**

The storm - for most - had come and gone, leaving only muddy grounds and scattered debris. But to Mali, it lingered, hanging over her head and clouding her thoughts.

"Mornin' sunshine," Morello said through a yawn as Mali rubbed her eyes. Her neck was stiff and her mouth woolly, but that wasn't on her mind… Red was.

The night before saw her sneak off in pursuit of Vee as Mali and Nicky watched. Unsure of her plan, they could do nothing but wait until she came back - if she came back. The minutes ticked by and Mali grew more and more anxious, cracking her knuckles and fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Relief flooded through her veins as she caught a glimpse movement at the doorway, the moonlight bouncing off her red hair. She glided back into the cafeteria, seeming almost at ease. Mali gave Nicky a quizzical look but was hushed as the Russian returned to their group. She scanned over the sleeping faces of her family, and the two inmates closed their eyes, faking it.

 _Guess we'll just have to wait._

Mali now glanced over at Red, who smiled at her warmly and chucked an apple to the girl. The cafeteria was alive with chatter now that everyone was awake and already the COs were ordering for the mattresses to be removed.

Mali nearly choked on her fruit as she caught a glimpse of Vee, who leered at her. _So...who died?_ She wondered. As if reading her mind, Red clapped her hands to gather everyone in.

"We have a truce," she said simply. Mali was glad, of course. But the look Vee gave her just then irked her… Surely when there's peace, the threats should stop?

"Now, I must check the greenhouse," Red continued as she got up slowly. She grimaced at the pain in her back as Norma rushed in to help. "I'm fine, I'm fine. But will you take my mattress?" She asked charmingly, with a resigned nod from the mute. With a final look at the inmates before her, Red turned and left, joining the flow of people exiting the cafeteria.

 _You'd think a storm would give us a day off._ Mali thought irritably as she headed to work. There was dried mud on the concrete outside the Main Entrance where she had splashed in a puddle the day before, and the grass poked out of the boggy ground in tufts. Squelching her way to the shed, she had barely set foot inside when Luschek spoke.

"Black! Light in corridor D. Vamonos."

With a roll of her eyes, she grabbed a lightbulb and set off the way she came.

She found the busted light easily enough, but getting to it was a different matter. Blessed with short legs, she needed a stepladder to reach it. She stood, hands on her hips, as if willing it to get lower.

"You okay there, Black?" Fischer chimed in.

Mali pointed at the empty light socket and stood on tiptoes, demonstrating her issue. The CO smiled faintly and took the lightbulb, screwing it into place.

"Uh, thanks?" the inmate said, unsure how to take the favour.

"No problem. Sorry to hear about Red," she said sincerely - though it meant very little to Mali - and walked off. _What the fuck does that mean?_ She wondered.

Just then, Gina and Norma barreled towards her, faces grim.

"Mali!" Gina said, taking her sleeve. She scratched her neck uncomfortably, before meeting Mali's bewildered stare. "Vee lied - attacked. Red's in medical."

Mali felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. She stumbled backwards, putting her arms on her shaking knees to steady herself. Norma had put a hand on her shoulder and tried to soothe her but she was too infuriated with herself to be calmed. It rose inside her like an air balloon fuelled by a raging fire.

 _You should've followed her._

She walked and walked, biting her lip raw. Like every other time she had a problem, Mali found herself in Red's bunk, only this time there was nobody there to welcome her. Just a cold, empty, lifeless bunk. She crawled up into bed and gathered the colourful blanket into her hands, inhaling the agonising scent of cooking oil mixed with soap. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, caught up in her own mind, playing the previous night over and over again like a broken record. Her guilty conscience was infesting her thoughts, filling them with 'What If's.

 _You should've followed her, you piece of shit._

A whicker of strained laughter from the entrance to the cube caused the somber inmate to look up. There stood Nicky, whose hair was more frazzled than usual; she too had subconsciously sought out the solace of the crazy Russian.

She joined Mali on the bunk, so they were both facing the wall opposite. Wordlessly, Mali relinquished the blanket, offering it to the older inmate. _Guess that's why they're called comforters._ She contemplated, a brief break from her current train of thought. Nicky took the bundle, hugging it close to her chest.

"Did you see her?" Mali's voice was small, reluctant to accept reality. Nicky shook her head, still staring into space. Her grip on the blanket tightened and Mali had a feeling they shared the same conscience.

"We should've gone with her," She thought aloud for the millionth time.

"Nah. Shoulda stuck a knife in that lyin' pig-faced, tobacco-munching, motherfucking tramp before she got to Red," the explosive reply came as she threw down the blanket. Mali flinched and looked at her sideways.

Nicky always had a fiery spirit and could hurl her sarcastic insults faster than an arcade machine spits out tickets, but this was different. There was a edge to her voice which made her dangerous, lethal.

Sensing Mali's wince the older inmate looked down at her, pushing her tongue into her cheek. "It was gonna happen anyways, Mal. Vee's was out for blood."

Mali was turning over Nicky's words in her head, cracking her knuckles. She didn't believe there was nothing they could've done, and wasn't sure that Nicky did, either.

"Now she's washed the Red off her hands," the older inmate said quietly. It surprised Mali: she had never seen her so wounded before.

Nicky was beating herself up inside. She was strong but Red was stronger, and now her backbone was gone. Because she didn't think fast enough. Because she dismissed Red's worry as paranoia. Because she pushed her away. Her anguish was eating away at her insides but she felt the urge to bottle them up; to be Mali's rock instead.

Mali reached forward to take the now abandoned blanket and opened it out, spreading it over her own legs and Nicky's, who picked at the fabric with her fingers.

 _If we're gonna share the guilt, better do it together._

Mali leaned back once more and sighed, her breath hitching. She bit her lip to stop it trembling and a quick glance up showed Nicky pursing hers, eyes glazed. She drew an arm around Mali's shoulders and the two inmates sat, spilling their grievances silently but for the occasional sniff. It was as if the blanket had taken Red's place temporarily, warmly embracing them and allowing their defences to drop.

Or perhaps it was the absence of the mother which found her daughters finding comfort in eachother instead, holding eachother up and empowering themselves.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N - Sorry for the slow progression, been kinda busy lately. Your reviews are appreciated immensely; gives me a feel as to how I should continue the story. Thank you, thank you!**

The lack of information from the infirmary took the forefront of Mali's mind, weighing her down. It had been almost a month with no news. It wasn't as though she'd completely withdrawn herself from life - that wasn't even an option here. There was just a dull ache inside of her that simply missed Red's presence. She missed the twenty-four hour therapy service. She missed the cynicism which complemented the Russian's accent perfectly. She missed the badgering about her diet, and how she never ate enough.

But an uneasy feeling was creeping into her mind like an unwanted weed, and no amount of distraction would keep it at bay. With Litchfield's reputation, Red could've snuffed it days ago…

 _No._

She wouldn't continue like this. She had to know something, anything. Shoving her feet into her boots, she trudged down the hallway and paused in front of the door. It was likely that this was a waste of time, but there was the tiniest chance she might succeed in her endeavours. _Try._ Mali persuaded herself. With a final, nervous crack of her knuckles, she rapped on the door.

"Mr Caputo..?" She asked hesitantly, pulling the door open a fraction. A grunt of a response permitted her to enter and she stood gingerly, picking at a hangnail on her thumb.

He peered at her from behind his glasses, before returning to his paperwork and speaking in a flat tone. "Look, if you're here about Rezni-"

"Yeah, I am," Mali interrupted. "What's goin' on with her? Why ain't she out yet?" she pursed her lips to stop the questions tumbling out of her all at once. Caputo sighed and took off his glasses; he already had this conversation with Nichols a week before.

"You don't need to know that. We're under no obligation to give you any information regarding hospitalised inmates," he recited as though he had swallowed a whole copy of _Dismissing Inmates 101_.

Mali clenched her fists - she wouldn't accept defeat that quickly. She briefly considered her options: he wasn't in a sympathetic mood, so tears wouldn't work like they normally did.

"Just tell me. Please," she uttered the last word through gritted teeth, reluctant to reduce her demand to a plea. Caputo stared blankly back at her and spoke loudly, as if trying to drill it into her skull.

"We are under no obligation to give you any informa-"

"Bullshit!" Mali exclaimed. _I shouldn't have said that._ She pulled a hand up to her mouth, willing her remark to be withdrawn.

"Excuse me?" Caputo asked incredulously, his moustache bristling.

"Nothin'," Mali mumbled through her hand, her eyes darting around the room to avoid his stare.

"No, no. You said something. Please!" He gestured for her to continue, leaning back in his chair. The inmate's eyes darkened as she looked up to glare at him. _He's enjoying this._ She thought, catching the glint in his eyes as he watched her squirm.

 _Have it your way, asshole._

With a huff, Mali obliged. "I said bullshit, okay? It's bullshit, what you're doing, actin' all secretive and shit..."

 _You are so going to the SHU for this, Mali._

"That's enough-" Caputo raised his voice, but Mali wasn't finished; past the point of reason.

"No, I mean it. You want us to 'preciate you? Respect you? Don't leave us in the dark!" She was smiling in disbelief at her own audacity. "We all wanna know. So how 'bout instead of sittin' there with your lil' desk plant… you grow some balls and tell me if Red's okay?!" Her voice faltered as she stared Caputo down, her face a mix of anger and regret. She had just blown it in a fit of rage… There was no way he'd tell her anything now, no way in hell. She bowed her head and scratched her ear, moving towards the door, until Caputo spoke. "She's stable."

It was like a million fireworks had just been set off in her head. As she fumbled with the doorhandle she looked at him genuinely. "Thank you."

On the other side she fell into the wall and bit her nail.

 _Stable._

It wasn't much, but it was better than dead, which Mali had feared since that infamous morning. She grinned inwardly. _Did I really just insult Caputo's ball size and get away with it?_ It seemed too absurd to be true.

"What's got you all smiley?" Chapman had appeared from somewhere and was looking at the younger inmate. Mali nodded her head toward Caputo's door.

"He says Red's okay," she smiled, pushing herself off from the wall, walking with Chapman.

"I thought he has _no obligation to tell us about hospitalised inmates_?" She mocked.

"I uh, stepped on his manhood a lil' bit," Mali admitted, fiddling with her sleeve. Chapman gave a chuckle of approval and they continued to walk in silence - something the pair was used to doing.

The weather had turned around in the past few weeks and it was warm enough for the inmates to lounge around outside. Mali caught sight of a mane of hair which could only belong to one person. She split from Chapman and walked briskly to the table where she sat, sliding onto the bench opposite.

"She's okay," she said through a smile, anticipating the Nicky's reaction - it wasn't often that she was the first to know something. The older inmate needed no context, no explanation. She looked up to meet Mali's gaze.

"How'd you know?"

"Caputo."

"Asshole," she said hitting the table with her fist. "Wouldn't tell me shit," she leaned in, frowning. "What exactly did he say?"

Mali shrugged, idly tapping the wood. "Not much. Just said she's stable."

Nicky ran a hand through her hair and sighed.

"Guess it's better than the alternative right? You told the others?"

Mali shook her head, peering over the courtyard.

"Ay, Gina!" Nicky shouted behind her back. The inmate looked up and squinted her eyes. "Red's okay."

Turning back around, Nicky smirked. "There. Now the whole prison should know by dinner."


	13. Chapter 13

Mali went through the rest of week day in a daze, Caputo's words ringing in her mind. The weight of the unknown had been lifted from her shoulders, though it had been replaced with a need for normalcy; for Red to be released and returned to her life.

She lay on her bed, her feet planted to the concrete divider and head dangling over the edge. Things always looked so distorted upside down.

If she focused hard enough on a single point she was able to get lost in it, breaking it down until all she could see was a phantasm morphed by her own mind.

The rays of light which streaked through the window made spots which danced in Mali's eyes and the noise of the dorm was deadened by the drumbeat pulsing in her head.

She allowed her thoughts to take her away, to forget reality for a second and escape into this weird and wonderful abstract.

 _Like a clean way of getting high_. She mused as she stared at the floor. Two black spots swayed into her vision and lingered there. They had towers of khaki sprouting from their tops. Not spots... boots. Mali followed the leg upwards until she met the face of its owner. Morello clicked her fingers and the younger inmate blinked, recovering from her trance.

"Guess who's back?" She said in a sing-song voice, her red lips drawn into a smile. Mali's eyes widened and she shot up, briefly disorientated as the blood rushed from her head. Swivelling around she looked up again at Morello, getting a reassuring nod.

'Wh-where..?" She asked, bewildered. Her mind was lagging behind her actions, still surfacing from the haze.

"Last I saw she was checkin' the greenhouse."

She sprung off the bed and the two inmates made their way through the corridors, Morello leading the way. Mali shoved her hands in her pockets to stop them trembling in anticipation and her pace quickened the closer they got to their destination.

It was another clear day and the air was still outside. Mali made a beeline for the greenhouse and threw open the door. She walked further in, looking around - there was no sign of Red. _That's a fucked up joke._ Mali thought dismally to herself as she slunk back outside. She started towards Morello, ready to shout, but something stopped her. The older inmate had her arms folded and was smiling. She raised her eyebrows and looked at the vegetable patch.

Mali slowly turned.

There she was, standing with the others with a look of amusement on her face; in the rush of it all, Mali had managed to walk straight past her.

"Jesus Christ," Was all Mali could think to say as she launched herself at Red with such force she stumbled into the fence, burying her face in the Russian's shoulder.

She drew back and scanned Red's face, her brow furrowing as she lightly touched the scar under her cheek.

"I'm okay, Mali," she reassured her, and took the girl's hand from her face to give it her signature squeeze. Her voice was almost melodic to the young inmate's ears as she pulled her into another hug. Mali didn't mind that she had an audience this time as she wrapped her arms tightly around Red. She took in the familiar smell of soap and cooking oil, only there was a vestige of anaesthetic now, too.

 _The branches of the tree outside whipped against the window as the rain poured down in sheets._

 _The girl sat huddled in a fortress of plush animals, quivering like a leaf in her pajamas. The thunder shook the window, making the four year old cower in fear. When she was sure it was safe to get up, she creeped out of her room, armed with her unnecessarily large bear, Sputnik._

 _The TV could be heard from downstairs, giving severe weather warnings and forecasts. The girl felt blindly along the wall until she found the phone, dragging it back into her room._

 _Her fingers trembled as another round of thunder boomed, dialling the number taped to the phone. After an agonising few seconds, the receiver picked up._

" _Hello?" Came the Russian voice, dwarfed by the sound of rain pelting the roof._

" _Where are you, mama?" The girl asked frantically, gripping her bear._

" _Mali, I'm driving home now," the soothing voice on the other end said, immediately calming the girl._

" _Come quicker!" She demanded as the branch hit the window more violently. She was close to tears, but refused to cry - not yet._

" _Malyshka, it's okay, I'll be home soon," her voice strained slightly, distracted for a moment._

" _I miss you, mama."_

" _I miss you t-" she was cut off by the sound of wheels skidding and an unmistakable crunch of metal on metal._

"I missed you," she said quietly. There was a childish neediness in her voice, but she didn't care. The void that had been inside her was being filled once more by the warmth radiating from the Russian, relaxing her, calming her.

Red cupped her face in her hands and smiled, her eyes crinkling. "I missed you too, Malikova," and she kissed her forehead.

The group began walking back to the main building, Red sandwiched between Nicky and Mali. Mali zoned out of their conversation, letting them have their moment. She gazed up at the clouds as they walked, only noticing they had all stopped when she was a good ten feet ahead of them. Spinning around, she knitted her eyebrows in confusion. "What?"

They exchanged a series of smirks and continued walking, leaving Mali standing there, baffled. Red was the last, who patted her fondly on the shoulder.

"Shoes, Mali."

She looked down and sure enough, she stood in the grass in her socks. Her shoes lay on the floor of her cube, forgotten in the haste to see Red.

"Shit," she said plainly as they chuckled at her expense, before shrugging and hurrying to rejoin them.

"So how much you heard 'bout what's happened?" Nicky asked. Norma and Gina had left for Kitchen duty, leaving Morello, Nicky, Mali to keep Red company in her bunk.

Mali was cross-legged on the floor, leaning on the bed which held Nicky and Morello on top.

"I know about Vee…" Red recalled, before looking at Morello intently. "I don't fully know how Rosa got her hands on the van."

Morello's cheeks flushed the same red as her lipstick as she stuttered an explanation.

"Well, if you think about it… I didn't do nothin' wrong. There was an alarm, and… An' I followed protocol," she pouted her lip innocently, earning a chuckle from Red, who fiddled with her mirror.

Despite her long absence, her bunk was exactly how she had left it. _Except her blanket._ Mali reminded herself, tilting her head backwards to see it, getting a questioning look from Nicky.

"Blanket," she answered, and the older inmate threw it at her. It fell out of its fold mid-air and landed directly on Mali's head, draping over her.

With a sigh, she pulled it off. "Thank you," she said, smiling sarcastically and placing it in her lap.

Red sat, listening to them update her on life in The Litch, making the appropriate noises here and there. Morello expressed her disgust for her new assignment ( _You could be workin' janitorial down with Crazyeyes…')_ and Nicky gave a report on her project down in the shed.

"It's a hole," Mali said indifferently.

"It's a work of art!" Nicky replied defensively, cuffing her over the head. Mali turned to whack her with the blanket but it was plucked from her hand by Red.

"Honestly, you two could give my boys a run for their money," she said as she smoothed down the blanket.

"Yeah, well, we'd win. Obviously."

"We're prisoners, after all," Mali agreed, faking a snarl. Red shook her head at Morello, who merely shrugged. Red suddenly clapped her hands together, her eyes lighting up.

"I almost forgot… Guess who's back?"

"Miss Claudette. Mercy. Taslitz. Pornstache. George Bush-"

"Vause," Red finished for Nicky.

"Vause?" Morello raised her eyebrows in confirmation

"Vause."

"Vause?" It was Mali's turn to ask this time; the name was foreign to her.

"She was here just before you came..." Morello began to explain for Mali, before speaking to the others, her eyes wide in sincerity. "Heard Chapman got more time 'cuz of her. That's gonna be interesting, huh?"

Nicky turned her head to Mali, who was trying to follow their conversation. "Did we mention they're ex-girlfriends slash mortal enemies slash fuckbuddies?" she said with enthusiasm, Red's forehead wrinkling at the lewd remark.

"Damn," was all Mali could say, distracted by a split end. Red's belly let out a rumble and the three other inmates stopped to look at her.

"I haven't eaten since morning," she justified, slowly standing up. "Shall we?"

 _That's not really a choice, is it?_

Mali heaved herself from the floor and they walked out of the dorm, which was now bathed in the orange light of dusk.

 **A/N - Yay, happy families. How about that flashback? All reviews greatly appreciated... I've had withdrawals!  
Should Alex's introduction feature in the next chapter?**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N - I did this in one go, so don't judge too harshly.**

 **Figured it'd be some fluffy character crap to bide the time, because sooner or later I'm going to have to write the inevitable (you can probably guess what I'm talking about)...**

 **Anyways, here's chapter 14!**

Berdie's first drama class was the main topic of conversation that evening. As she poked her food around the tray, Mali listened to the hushed whispers recapping Vause and Chapman's intense improv.

"I don't think the fruit was a fruit, y'know what I mean?" Morello said, waving her fork. "Think it was a meta for somethin' else."

Gina narrowed her eyes at her. "You mean a metaphor _for_ something else?"

"That's what I said. A meta… For something bad."

The conversation descended into a hopeless argument as to what the correct term was, with Morello firmly standing her ground ("A 'metaphor for' don't sound right, though!"). With an exasperated sigh, Gina gave up and stormed out of the cafeteria.

"You should come tomorrow," Morello said, shifting the focus onto Mali.

"No. No way," She replied resolutely. Mali had decided long ago - specifically when she tripped over her Shepherd's robe and forgot her lines in the second-grade Nativity play - that theatre of any kind wasn't her cup of tea.

"Come on, it's just a bit of fun," Sister Ingalls persuaded.

"No."

Morello puckered her lips, thinking of a different approach. At that moment Chapman chose to make an entrance, giving her the idea she needed.

Resting her head on her hand, she spoke in as nonchalant a tone as she could muster. "Who knows? Maybe there'll be another episode between those two…"

Mali's ears pricked up and her eyes darted from Chapman to Morello. _You will not give in that easy._ She told herself, though knew it was futile. Who could resist a bit of _real_ drama?

"Fine."

By the time they arrived, most of the other inmates were already seated. The tables had been pushed aside to make room for more chairs, which all faced an empty space which served as a stage. Morello led them to a pair of seats close to the back and they sat, watching the final stragglers come through the doorway and into the class.

Berdie clapped her hands to call for quiet, and the noise died down like a radio dial being turned.

"Welcome back, welcome back!" She said enthusiastically. "Great to see some new faces here, too. I think we'll start with a warm-up game this time…I need everyone to get into a circle," there was a mumble of sound as feet shuffled across the floor into position. Berdie stepped into the centre and slowly turned, addressing the whole group. "This is very simple. Word association. It's all about concentration… For example, if I said 'cat', the person next to me might say 'dog'. You get me?" A scattering of nods answered her question. "Good, let's start," she said as she rejoined the circle.

"Pear."

"Apple."

"Red?" Black Cindy said doubtfully, though was given an encouraging nod from Berdie.

"Russian."

"Communism."

"Oppression."

"Prison."

"Litchfield."

"Shit."

A ripple of laughter coursed through the circle. Now it was Mali's turn. Everybody was watching. _How the hell did they think so fast?_ She thought as she searched her mind for something, anything. "Crap."

"Fuck."

"Cunt."

 _Well then._

The game had quickly descended into plain and simple profanity, with the inmates' words getting progressively more vulgar.

"Motherfuckin' Dickwad."

"That's two words, dumbass!"

"Never said it had to be one word!"

"It's _Word_ association _."_

Berdie chose to step in, preventing the game from escalating even more, stopping the warm-up before things caught fire. "Okay, okay, think that's enough… How about we continue with the improvisations?"

The circle broke apart as the inmates returned to their seats. "Alright, Suzanne, you can be one of them…" She scanned over the room for another volunteer. As her eyes met Mali's, the inmate dropped her gaze to the floor and hoped the counsellor didn't notice.

"How about our latest addition?" Berdie said, smiling.

 _Oh God, no._

Mali felt herself being pushed out of her seat by an eager Morello, who nodded enthusiastically.

She watched her feet as she ambled to the front; partly to avoid the stares, and partly to ensure she didn't trip again.

"A bank!"

That was their location, apparently. Mali was stiff as a board as Berdie called "Action".

Crazyeyes cleared her throat and strolled forward.

"Good morning. I'd like to cash in some money," she said theatrically, one hand on her hip, the other pinching a fake note. Mali stood, deadpan, completely at a loss as to what to do next.

"What happens next?" Berdie prompted.

Mali stared at her, before shifting her focus to the invisible note. "Okay," she said bluntly, unceremoniously taking the money and dropping her hand to her side.

Suddenly, Crazyeyes lunged forward and smacked her hands together, extending her index fingers to mimic a gun. "Give me a thousand dollars _now_!" She yelled, her eyes widening in menace.

Mali looked down at the sea of faces in front of her, turning slowly back around to look at the 'gun'. Her face remained emotionless, unable to be immersed in the role.

She drew her hand back up from her side, fist clenched as if holding something. "Here."

 _That's it, scene's over._ She thought, but Berdie pushed for more empathy, desperately wanting Mali to embrace the character. "You're being robbed. You're at gunpoint. How do you feel? What do you _say?_ "

"It's not a real gun, though," Mali began to argue, though was cut off by the counsellor.

"In-Character! In-Character!"

Mali's blank stare fell back on the gun. "Your gun is fake."

Laughter murmured through their audience, who found the young inmate's literal interpretation of Berdie's instructions rather amusing.

 _They're laughing at you, Mali._ She thought alarmingly. _Though maybe not…_

Perhaps they were laughing at the scene she had created. Crazyeyes wasn't expecting that: She looked like a hurt child, her bottom lip pouting and brow furrowed, pulled out of her fantasy.

The contrast between the two characters (though unintentional) was clear. The older inmate was bursting with energy and theatrics, whilst Mali simply stood there, effortlessly pissing on her parade.

"Roll with it, ladies!" Berdie called out, urging for the scene to progress. "Embrace the situation!"

 _Fuckin' embrace it._ Mali echoed in her head. She had control to turn the scene into whatever the hell she wanted.

Crazyeyes was still dazed, as if trying to comprehend what was happening. Before she had time to react however, the younger inmate had raised a hand, creating her own gun. Face expressionless, she raised her eyebrows and flicked her wrist. "Boom."

"Plot twist!" Someone shouted and the class erupted with exaggerated gasps mingled with laughter as Crazyeyes dutifully collapsed to the floor.

 _Fin._

Mali shuffled back to her seat impassively and fell into it with a sigh.

"And the Oscar goes to…" Morello teased, poking her in the ribs. Mali shot her a glare and folded her arms. "Come on, Mali. You had fun."

The younger inmate's pokerface cracked as she reluctantly broke into a small smile.

"Maybe a lil' bit."

Disappointingly, the class had no prison-lover dramas this time around. As they filtered out of the Rec Room, Mali tried to make sense of the couple's dynamic.

"Wait, so they was once together… Then they broke up?" She confirmed, walking with Morello towards the cafeteria.

"Yeah. An' Chapman's in here because of Vause."

"I thought Vause was in cuz of Chapman?" Mali was sure that's what Morello had said a couple nights ago in Red's cube.

"I am."

None other than Vause herself had joined them. Mali's eyes widened, a nosy rabbit caught in the headlights. _How much did she hear..?_

"Oh, hey," Morello greeted her casually. "Mali, Vause. Vause, Mali. She doesn't get what's goin' on between you an' Chapman."

 _Way to throw me under the bus there…_

Vause scoffed, shaking her head. "Yeah, uh. It's complicated."

"Everythin' always is, ain't it?" Morello mused. "What did ya' think of Mali's lil' scene back there?"

 _Oh my god, stop talking._ The younger inmate thought miserably. She wanted nothing more than to melt into a puddle just to avoid any more awkward small talk.

"I'd probably shoot her in the face too if I could," Vause smirked. Whilst she didn't much enjoy going down the path of discussing her performance, Mali realised they were limited in other topics of conversation.

 _How much time you got?_

 _Did you see_ Judy King _last night?_

 _...What's the deal with you and Chapman, and why the hell is it so fantastically fucked up?_

At least Morello had diverted them from that particularly delicate subject.

"-An' her gun represents America…" The two inmates were now over-analyzing every single aspect, simply because there was nothing better to do.

Resigned to her fate, Mali shoved her hands in her pockets and stared at the laces of her boots, wondering as they walked whether it was possible to make a noose out of the laces.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N - dun dun duuun**

Mali was sure she must have changed every lightbulb in Litchfield, but apparently that wasn't the case.

 _Or the lightbulbs are just shit._

Luschek had deemed her competent enough for the task and as such had her doing runs daily, in and out of the main building.

Today was no different. When the CO eventually showed up from his lunch break, he assigned her to a job in the laundry room. "Light fixture in Laundry. Vamos."

"It's _vamonos_ ," a Hispanic corrected him with a roll of her eyes, though a dismissive wave of his hand showed Luschek couldn't care less. " _Guera…_ " She muttered under her breath as he spun leisurely in his chair.

Mali approached the shelf stacked with bulbs varying in size and power, racking her brain trying to remember what the lights in laundry looked like.

"Laundry uses the tubes," Nicky said, noticing Mali's hovering hand.

"Exciting," she replied half-heartedly, grabbing a long, white tube. In some ways, it was: it made a nice change from the usual bulbs she was used to and when it came to excitement... you take what you can get.

She thrust the tube forward and sidled over to Nicky, who stood watching her. She inched the tube closer to the older inmate so its tip brushed her neck.

"Bow before me, peasant," she commanded in a horrendous attempt of an English accent.

"Eh… Nah," she smirked, arms folded. Not breaking eye contact, Mali removed the tube from her throat and swung it to the table next to her, laying it behind the electronics Nicky was tinkering with. With one sweep, she sent them off the table to the floor, like a windscreen wiper. The older inmate raised her eyebrows, amused by Mali's futile attempts to threaten her.

Squinting her eyes, Mali sweeped the table one final time, sending a screwdriver clattering down. With a grin, she spoke loudly. "Hey Nicky, didn't you have a screwdriver on the table?"

Luschek stopped his spinning and glared in their direction as Nicky pointed reassuringly at the floor, chuckling uneasily until he turned back around.

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" She said lightly, shaking her head as she knelt down to pick up the fallen items. As she made to get up, she was stopped by the tube resting on her left shoulder.

"I hereby knight thee Sir Nichols of Litchfield, keeper and protector of pieces of shit," Mali said earnestly, moving the tube to her other shoulder and nodding approvingly. With a grin, she bowed dramatically and spun around, swaying the light in her hand as she swiped a toolbelt and left the shed.

Swinging it up onto her shoulder as if it were a baseball bat, Mali walked across the overgrown grass and deep into the main building. The laundry room was alive with the hum of washing machines and a flickering in one corner told Mali which light needed replacing. She dragged a stepladder over to the panel and stared at it, cracking her knuckles. Through the acrylic, she could make out three strips glowing; the light consisted of a trio of fluorescent tubes, one of which was busted. She turned it off from the mains- after flipping every switch but the one which controlled the faulty light - and analysed her task. Whilst changing it wouldn't be hard, accessing it would prove a challenge. She couldn't work out where the light frame opened in order to open the case and access the light itself. Standing on the top step and on tiptoes, she peered over the top and found that the case was screwed in from the top.

 _Just my luck._ She thought, feeling the grooves of the screws with her fingertips. She took out the screwdriver from her belt and glided it aimlessly across the top of the light until it hit a screw.

Finally, after a lot of slip-ups and swearing, she had the casing loose and could fit the new tube into the light.

Stepping down from the ladder, she admired her handiwork before her eyes fell on the case which lay on the floor.

"Shit…" She said to no one in particular. If taking it off was hard, putting it back on was going to be almost impossible. Heaving it from the floor, she battled gravity keeping one hand underneath it whilst the other tried to screw it back in place. She alternated between left and right, trying to find _some_ way of handling the task.

At one point she tried using her knee for support, balancing the casing on her thigh as she struggled with a screw. That plan ended in a loud crash though as she lost her footing and toppled to the floor. Smoothing out her hair, Mali glanced back up at the light, biting her lip (which had been cut when she fell).

 _You can't really tell, can you…_

Checking to make sure nobody was watching, she took the casing and stuffed it far into the gap between the first washing machine and wall, scattering the four screws after it like seeds before turning the light back on. Satisfied with the job done, Mali folded the stepladder and grabbed the dud tube, heading back to the shed for the last couple hours of work.

Dumping the dead light in the graveyard of faulty electronics, she went to sit at her usual table to waste time knotting wires. Nicky was absent, though that wasn't surprising: Luschek always favoured her in the big jobs which actually did something beneficial for the Litch.

The shed was quiet but for the background noise of tools on metal and wood. _Too tired to bother talking._ Mali yawned at the thought, giving up on her super-knot in a spool of electrical wire. Chapman looked up at her every so often, her lips parting as if to speak before changing her mind. _Probs mad you didn't knight her, too._ Mali thought, letting herself wander to the blank thoughts which consisted of nothing but mindless amusement.

The time ticked by slowly, and she found herself struggling to stay awake. The shed felt inexplicably subdued, and combining that with the Spring shower which now drummed against the roof made Mali drowsy, the exhaustion of the week catching up with her.

With a furtive glance behind her shoulder, she saw Luschek fidgeting with his papers, lost in his own thoughts, lips pursed.

 _He won't notice_. Mali told herself, resting her chin on her hand. It felt like she had barely closed her eyes for a minute when the CO's voice cut through the air. "Okay, you're done… Get out," he sighed, sounding relieved as he dragged a hand over his beard.

Not even the drizzle outside brought Mali out of the sleepiness which had overcome her, yawning whilst dragging her feet to the main building. She briefly considered going straight to dinner with Chapman, but her bunk sounded far more appealing, and headed directly for Dorm A.

Kicking off her boots, she dived headfirst into the bed, groaning into the pillow. She let the ambient chatter wash over her as she closed her eyes, just for a moment…

 _Mali chewed her pencil, staring out of the window. The July sun was beating down on the asphalt and the trees swayed lazily, beckoning her to join them._ Two more years. _she thought._ Then I'll be free...

Smack.

 _Her history assessment had been returned to her desk by an unimpressed Mr. Whitfield. Seventeen out of thirty six. 'SEE ME' circled in red. She leaned over to check the score of the girl next to her, whose paper was clear of any red messages. Twelve._

" _Piece of shit," Mali grumbled to herself as the final bell rang. Grabbing her bag, she shuffled into the ball of students eagerly leaving the stuffy classroom, carefully avoiding her teacher's glare._

" _Shitfield hates me," she complained, her head in Louis' lap. They were in their usual spot in the park, tucked away behind a large bush._

" _Yeah? Well, I don't," he said._

" _Prove it," Mali grinned, as he bent down to kiss her lightly, before rummaging in his bag._

" _That it?" She pouted, demanding more. "I swear, Louis, you gotta-" she trailed off as he presented her with two needles, looking triumphant. "Is that..?" He nodded. She sat up and took one - examining it - reflecting his smile._

" _You sure it's safe?" She asked. 'Safe' was a pretty broad term: of course it wasn't safe, it's heroin. But whether or not it was legit was important._

" _Yeah, swiped it from Stevie's room when he was out. Easy."_

 _Mali looked up at him, eyes wide. This was a big step up from their usual stuff. He took her hand, caressing her finger idly._

" _It's all good, Mal. Trust me?"_

 _She nodded, assured by the glint in his eyes. He rolled up her sleeve and stroked her forearm, a vein just visible like a faint blue string. Biting her lip, she watched as the needle penetrated her skin, Louis' thumb on the plunger, pushing the dark liquid into her body._

 _It felt so fucking good._

 _Her breath hitched as an intense warmth spread through her body, coursing through every artery, every vein._

 _She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. In that moment the leaves surrounding her danced to the floor, swirling into intricate patterns and shapes. Her history paper didn't matter. Grades didn't matter. Shit, life didn't matter. All that mattered was this extreme euphoria pulsing through her body, making everything okay._

 _Collapsing into the dirt, she breathed heavily, observing the silvery blue glow surrounding Louis like a halo._

 _If she hadn't believed in a god before, she sure as hell did now._

 _Everything would be okay._

 _But it wasn't._ Mali thought, a conscious remark which pulled her from her sleep. She had woken up in the exact position she had fallen asleep in, sprawled on her front.

 _That's weird._

She had experienced that dream before.

Her first hit. The first step on a spiral staircase into shittiness.

But it always came after something bad. It was like her mind would always find a way to trace everything which went wrong to that first time, blaming it for whatever happened.

Shaking her head free of her thoughts, Mali pushed her feet into her boots. It was already evening; many of the inmates had already eaten and now milled around the dorm.

Strange looks were thrown her way as she walked to the cafeteria, though she was still too sleepy to care.

Queuing for food, she passively listened to snippets of conversations, letting the words leave her mind as quickly as they came in.

"Happened this afternoon, I was walkin' to the bathroom..."

"Did you see her? Daaamn!"

"-She's obviously miserable. Her daughter..."

An inmate with a teardrop drawn on her face served Mali her tray, dropping a particularly large roll of bread in one of the compartment, smiling thinly.

Taking the food, Mali scanned the room for a table. Oddly enough, Chapman was still there, wrapped in a conversation with Vause and Big Boo. Dumping the tray next to Chapman, she noticed they had gone quiet and were now watching her carefully.

"What?"

"Nothing," the blonde inmate replied, a little too quickly. "Why're you so late?"

"Sleeping," Mali answered, tearing the bread in half. Turning her head to Chapman, she kept their small talk going. "You seen Nicky? She wasn't in the dorm when I left."

Focused on ripping her food apart, she didn't notice the exchange of looks between the three inmates. "What did Luschek have her workin' on this time?"

"What?" Vause asked, confused.

"When I came back from switching the light down at laundry…" Mali pointed lazily, explaining. "She wasn't there, an' didn't show for the rest of the day."

"He didn't assign her anywhere, Mali," Chapman said slowly, like she was talking to a retard.

 _Am I a retard?_ Mali wondered, wrinkling her nose. She was confused as hell, and they all seemed to know something she didn't. Boo snorted in astonishment. "Holy shit, seriously. Nobody told you?"

 **Hahahahahahahahah sorry**


	16. Chapter 16

"Told me what?"

Mali looked between their faces, lips slightly parted. They knew something… something she didn't. There was an exchange of glances and eyebrow raising between the three, a silent decision being made. Had she not been so perplexed, she might have found the contrast in facial expressions almost amusing. Chapman's eyes were wide, seeking the others' support; Vause scrutinised her with a scowl, rolling her eyes behind her glasses; Boo was leaning back, arms folded, entertained by it all.

"Told me what?" Mali asked again.

Chapman shifted in her seat but hesitated. With an impatient sigh, Vause took over, talking as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Nicky went down to Max."

Mali's head snapped up to stare at her, eyebrows knitted together. "What?"

 _That's impossible. You just saw her._

"Yeah, Luschek sent her down this afternoon," Vause continued, tapping her fingers against the table.

Mali stared blankly at the table, pulling pieces together. The weird looks. The hushed whispers. The quiet shed. _Chapman._ Mali slowly turned her head to look at the blonde, whose shoulders were already drawn up in defence, anticipating her reaction.

"Fuck you," Mali seethed quietly, standing up. Chapman tried to grab her sleeve but she jerked away; she couldn't waste another second with her.

There was hurt mixed with the fury etched on Mali's face as she backed away, fists clenched. _You fucking knew._ She thought, repeating it like a chant. Her face crumpled and she spun around, refusing to let herself be seen as weak.

"Mali, wait-" Chapman's last, desperate plea was cut off by the younger image raising her hands, presenting the finger on both as she stormed out.

She staggered like a drunk through the corridor, the weight of the news overwhelming her. It felt like a tonne of bricks had been dumped on her head as she came to terms with what had been said.

 _Nicky's in Max._

Entering the dorm, she steamed past her normal place of refuge and headed straight for her own bunk.

Wedging herself into the nook between the wall and the locker, she pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in them, finally allowing the tears to come.

And come they did. Her whole body shook as she uncontrollably let out stifled sobs, her heart pounding out of her chest like a paddleball. Max was an unknown land forged by rumours and stories. She had no idea when Nicky would come back. _If she comes back_. Her mind cruelly reminded her as she screwed her eyes shut. She had lost her partner in crime. She had lost her sister.

She had lost her rock.

And all she could do was grieve. A hand placing itself on her knee caused the girl to stop snivelling for a second. Somewhere in her mind, Mali held onto the hope that this was all some sick joke - that Nicky would swoop in on her, laughing away to high heaven.

She peered up, eyes rimmed with tears. There sat Red, the fire in her notably extinguished.

"Go away," Mali breathed, her grip tightening around her legs. She wanted to do this alone, punish herself for not suffering sooner. Another sob racked through her body and she closed her eyes, trying to pull enough of herself together to form a sentence. "Why'd you say nothin'?" It came out quiet, a door creaking open to a room of anguish. _She knew, too._

"I wanted to. But you were sleeping, and-" Mali scoffed. _As if I need reminding._ She had taken a nap like a little three year old whilst Nicky was spending her first night down at Max with a bunch of serial killers and psychopaths.

She shook her head. Looking at her tear stained thighs. "No, no. Get out," she hiccuped as she fought down a sob. Red moved her hand down to take Mali's, but the younger inmate pulled away.

"No!" She cried, her lip trembling.

She knew it was selfish to stamp on the glowing embers left of Red, but she couldn't help it… Red had opened the door wide and the pain and the anger was now flooding out.

Mali's despair became audible as she weeped into her knees, her defences broken by the torrent of tears streaming down her face. She rocked in a hopeless attempt to comfort herself, trying to let the movement wash away the grief.

The sorrow had reduced her to her most vulnerable, mewling in the fetal position against the wall. Wordlessly, Red heaved herself onto the bed next to the girl; she had witnessed enough of her children's tantrums to know when their outbursts were really just poorly disguised calls for help.

She pulled an arm around Mali's shoulders, stopping the shaking. She used her other hand to cradle her face, brushing away her hair.

She was plugging the hole Nicky had left by busying herself with others' grief: first Morello, now Mali. She channelled her own heartache into coping with theirs, wiping it all away together. Red had lost one of the most important people in her life, and they had too. Nicky wasn't just one of the family: she had a knack of holding things together even when the mother hen was at breaking point. She made their lives fuller with her sarcasm and wit, though every word was interlaced with genuine fondness. Now she was gone, and suddenly Litchfield felt colder.

Mali had abandoned her solitary position in the corner to lie curled up in a ball, her head resting on Red's lap. She had cried until she was empty inside, until she could physically cry no more; all that was left was a red-eyed, whimpering train wreck.

 _Nicky's in Max._

She stared at the wall opposite, the remaining tears seeping into her cheeks. Her anguish had drained her of all energy, leaving her hollow - unable to feel any emotion.

"Why did she go?" She asked quietly, the innocence of her question almost childish. Though Red's soothing motions didn't falter, it was clear she was deciding how best to tackle the question, whether to approach with either a euphemism or honesty.

"Heroin," the Russian finally replied, her voice strained. Mali bit her lip.

 _It was like her mind would trace everything which went wrong to that first time._

Her dream wasn't so random after all… Just meant for someone else. It made her feel even worse: her heart had known, but she was too stupid to realise it. The anger was rising inside her and she began to tremble again, her vision going blurry as her eyes filled with yet more tears - _how was that even possible?_

Red took the girl's hand in her own and squeezed, as if pumping in warmth to appease her.

"I shoulda' known. Junkie Radar an 'all," Mali croaked, smiling feebly at the joke. She shook her head. "I should've fucking known."

Everyone coped in their own way. Some occupied themselves with other things; some withdrew themselves from life. Mali blamed herself, and it felt ten thousand times worse right now. She was with Nicky everyday: worked with her, messed around with her, talked to her. Why didn't she see the signs?

 _What signs?_ A small voice in her head asked, but was shadowed by a persistent assurance. _Of course there were signs._

Her hindsight was clouded and she was getting worked up convincing herself that there was something she could've done, _should've_ done.

She felt betrayed by her own brain.

Mali let out a heavy sigh as she passively stared at nothing, turning over the day's events in her mind.

This time yesterday she had been unfolding the dog-ears in Nicky's book whilst the older inmate rambled on about Norma's 'brainless fucking crackhead' cult. _How the hell did things change so fast?_ She wondered. But things hadn't changed… Not for most people. Nicky's departure was nothing but a juicy topic for mealtimes to most of the inmates. Their worlds kept spinning.

"Bayu-bayu, zavtra budet Den' opyat'," Red sang quietly. _Tomorrow will be day again._ Mali recognised the tune, but felt no attachment; it was an empty promise. Meaningless. It could be Christmas for all she cared… It wouldn't make the smallest difference to her complex.

Red looked down tentatively and examined the side profile of Mali's face. She had dealt with her tears before: comforted her, rocked her, soothed her. Their tender moments were full but brief; it was in the girl's character to pick herself up and march on. But now as she lay expressionless, still, Red realised it was much more than that: Mali was broken.

Nicky exuded love in her own way to each and every person who she deemed worthy. She loved Red, Morello, Norma, Gina… Yet there was more than just love for the youngest member. She influenced her. She had pulled her through detox, guided her in Vee's reign of terror, shared her tricks (much to Red's displeasure) for surviving the Litch. She had shaped Mali in her own image, though held a particular affection for her clumsy personality. Nicky was always there for her to fall back on, to play the role of peacekeeper, sage, entertainer or pillow.

They brought out the best - and worst - in eachother and together they were lethal, like two bulls in a chinashop. Except now the bigger bull was gone.

A double act torn apart.

She stroked Mali's hair, circling the crown of her head. Red smiled sadly as she smoothed down an unruly lock. There was an undeniable amount of Nicky in her.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N - sorry for no updates recently. It was my birthday couple days ago (hypeee) and I went away. Now I'm back, so give me reviews as a present? :)))**

It had been almost three days since Nicky's departure, and things were still somewhat subdued.

Chapman had left Electrical for the new assignment, and Mali refused to acknowledge Lushek's presence anymore, making work about as interesting as a dead fish.

The announcement that she had a visitor over the intercom was the last thing Mali expected. She was in Red's cube, and they exchanged glances; they both knew how well Visitation went the first time around.

"Can I just _not_ go?" She asked, looking up.

"You can't just leave them there," Red reasoned to Mali's disgust. "Besides, it might not be him."

 _That's true._ Mali reluctantly thought. With a loud sigh, she rolled off the bed and out of the dorm.

She took her time getting to the Visitors' Room, finding every opportunity to stall. She stopped in at the bathroom to inspect her appearance: she wanted no reason for anybody from the outside to think she was struggling.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the scars on her face, as they always were. Her forehead had almost completely healed, but there was still a jagged line from her cheek down to her jaw line, where the flames had touched her. Her lower lip was rough from constantly biting it and there were dark rings under her eyes, like permanent shadows. She pulled a hand through her hair and squinted, trying to imagine how she would look at first glance.

Another call from the speaker pulled the unenthusiastic inmate towards the Visitors' Room until she was in the doorway, just as she had been all those weeks ago.

She inspected the jumble of khaki and casuals, looking for her dad. She had planned their reunion in her mind a hundred times, how pathetic he would look and how unforgiving she would be. But now that she was there, it wouldn't happen… Because he wasn't in the room. _Good._ She wasn't fully ready to confront him just yet, but she couldn't help the disappointment that stained her relief. She spun around, ready to walk out of the room and return to the lazy conversation she had been dragged out of.

"Mal!" Someone called behind her.

 _That's you._

Slowly, Mali turned around. She had prepared herself for an encounter with her father, looking only for a beard in a suit. In doing so, she had completely skipped over her visitor.

" _Louis?_ " She said in disbelief, taking in the grinning young man stood in front of her, before charging at him. He laughed as he stumbled back, spinning her around.

They broke away and Mali fell into a chair, Louis sitting opposite. They were silent, Louis examining her, Mali examining him. He had grown his hair out and there was a five o'clock shadow on his face which masked his gaunt cheeks.

"What?" She asked, amused at his smirk. Louis shrugged.

"You look rough," he smiled, leaning back in his chair. Mali rolled her eyes and huffed.

"I'm a convicted criminal now, man!" She flexed an arm, baring her teeth. "Could snap you like a twig."

They both laughed at her claim, knowing full well it wasn't true. It was like no time had passed since they last saw each other, throwing insults and making jokes only they understood.

"So what's it like, huh? Prison, I mean. You get beat up? Drop the soap?"

"Nah, it's nothin' like that, not really," Mali shook her head. If it were someone else, she might've satisfied their stereotypes - make it worse than it really was. But Louis had known her for too long; it felt like he knew her life better than she did sometimes… That wouldn't change. "You don't get beat up unless you really, _really_ fuck up with the wrong person…" Her fists clenched as she remembered Vee's attack. _Not now._ She commanded her brain, trying to keep things lighthearted. "An' our soap's liquid."

Louis' eyes were wide, mystified. "What 'bout gangs and shit? Skinheads, Nazis, druglords?"

"Jesus, Lou, this ain't a movie!" She scoffed, poking her tongue into her cheek. "There's only a divide in race, y'know? Black, Latino, White. Look around you… You see any Nazis in here?" An inmate conveniently cooed at her baby at that moment, demonstrating Mali's point.

"Nah, gangs ain't really a thing. It's more like family," she continued, watching his face. He raised an eyebrow. "Like, a group of us who like…" She paused, puckering her lips in thought. _How the fuck do you explain it?_ She laced her fingers together on the table. "Who like, look after for each other. Look out for them. Y'know?" Louis nodded slowly, attempting to make sense of it all. "It's not labelled or nothin'... But like…"

 _Tell him all or tell him nothing._

His head was cocked to the side slightly. He wanted to know. Sucking air through her teeth, Mali leaned forward, ready to divulge her life in Litchfield.

"When I got here, first meal, I met Red. A Russian," Louis opened his mouth to speak, but Mali responded before he could do so. "Yeah, yeah, like me. Anyways, she's been here ages. An' she's like… The mom. Not just 'cuz she's old though, but she acts like it - she'll comfort you if you're sad, give you food, stuff like that. Then like, there's this mute, never talks. But she's has this vibe, makes you calm."

Mali chuckled at the look of confusion on Louis' face. She may as well have been speaking Spanish for all the sense it made to him. Still, she continued, drawing shapes with her finger on the table like a diagram. "Then underneath Red, there's a bunch of us. An' that's your group, y'know? That's where you belong."

She tapped the table with her hand idly, waiting for his response. _He always was a little slow._ She thought fondly, watching the shift from unsureness to understanding. He nodded slowly, before flicking a smile her way.

"And you're nobody's bitch?"

Mali smacked his forearm, rolling her eyes at his crudeness. Her hand lingered around his wrist, catching sight of the worn, leather cuff which adorned it.

" _Let's get us some souvenirs," Mali said, turning on her heel. They had broken away from the class, who were surveying the street._

" _We're on Fifth Street. You come here everyday," Louis remarked, allowing himself to be pulled along by the girl._

" _Yeah, but it's_ different _this time."_

 _She dragged him into a gloomy discount store, brushing her other arm over the dusty merchandise as she marched over to a small array of accessories._

" _Remind me why I took sociology…" Mali asked, trying on an oversized hat._

" _Cuz' Cass said Econs is worse," Louis replied, leaning on a shelf as he watched her. She was now wading through a box of bracelets, brow furrowed in concentration._

" _You got five dollars?"_

" _Yeah…"_

 _Items clenched in one fist and Louis' money in the other, she weaved her way to the cashier and took a handful of coins from her coat._

" _Thought you needed five?"_

 _Mali grinned at him as she handed his money to the man behind the till. "I did. You just bought me this…" She pulled a chain over her head onto her neck as she sauntered past him. "... An' I got this for you!"_

 _She thrust the leather bracelet into his hands, folding his fingers around it, her eyes wide. "You're welcome."_

"No touching!" The CO shouted and Mali jerked her hand away, suddenly aware of what she was doing.

"You got yours?" Louis asked, motioning to her neck.

"I'm a convicted criminal, remember?" She shook her head, drumming her fingers more irritably on the table. She missed her old life. It was easier to ignore when her link to it was her scumbag dad, but seeing Louis was like seeing a reflection of her former self. His shirt was worn from being washed too many times, and his stocky build reminded Mali of the existence of food which wasn't served in plastic trays. When she looked closely, she could see a faint red outline surrounding his eyes.

 _At least you're clean._

It was a strange thought. She knew it was an achievement, but her inner Junkie wanted nothing more than to return to the front line, to continue living the life she had before her incarceration. What was Louis doing whilst she did her time? Did he have a job? Was he still tormenting the hobo on his street?

Visitation didn't have to be about her, like coming to see an animal at the zoo; She'd use it to get a dose of outside life.

They wasted their remaining time talking about stupidly trivial things, like the new line of cereal that had recently come out. When the hour was up, he reluctantly bought her a can of coke (which she downed in one go), putting her in much higher spirits.

"You'll visit again, yeah?" She asked into his shoulder as they hugged, breathing in the tantalising smell of smoke which lingered on his shirt. "See ya, Lewis," she grinned at his scowl, knowing just how much he hated people mispronouncing his name.

She walked back to the dorm, hoping to resume her talk with Red, though found her cube empty. Instead she found her in the cafeteria with Chapman, Vause and Morello. Mali was still getting used to the Italian's natural look; her lips looked naked now that there wasn't a layer of red covering them and her hair appeared dry. Her eyes were glazed as she scratched the edge of the tray with her nail, lost in thought.

Mali gently nudged her as she sat down, pulling her out of it. Morello turned so she was facing the girl, head cocked to one side, smiling crookedly. "You never told us you had a man, Mal."

Mali arched an eyebrow, confused as to what she was implying.

" _Louis_?!" She asked, eyes suddenly wide. "No. No, no, no. No. He's a friend, that's all," Her eyes darted btween the four sceptics. "How'd you know he visited, anyways?"

"We saw you through the window," Chapman explained, motioning to herself and Vause.

"We're just friends," Mali repeated, hopelessly trying to ignore their grins.

Vause raised her eyebrows. "Really? Just friends?" On cue, Chapman rested her forearm on the table. Vause hit it lightly, leaving her hand there, before smirking at Mali.

The younger inmate buried her face in her hands, letting out an exasperated sigh. She peered from behind her fingers, their silence leading her into believing it was over.

"Oh, to be young and in love!" Red chimed as their eyes met.

"We're not a- ugh!" Mali cut herself off with a grunt; her denial was just spurring them on. She ran a hand through her hair and blinked slowly. "We _were_. But not anymore, a'ight? Just friends."

"Just friends," Red repeated earnestly (though a smile was playing on her lips), ending the rally going back and forth. It was a hollow victory _:_ Mali had a feeling the topic would be brought back up at some point or another deliberately to provoke her.

 _Thank god Nicky's not here._ She shuddered to think of how the older inmate would've contributed to their teasing.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hi friends**

 **Sorry for such a delay. School's started again, which sucks. And I've had a bit of writer's block… please (pretend to) be satisfied with this non-meaningful chapter; I promise I'll do something substantial soon!**

They were all in the cafeteria, examining their meals. Mali allowed the food to fall from her spoon, into the pool of brown liquid. Her nose wrinkled as it splattered into the tray.

The others' reactions were similar: it just wasn't appetising. At all.

"I can't eat this," she declared, pushing the tray away. "Looks like shit."

The sight of Red striding towards their table however caused Mali to hastily drag it back towards her, resisting the urge to wince as the slop spilled over the side.

The colour of Red's face was not dissimilar to the pale walls of the cafeteria, her hands fidgeting with her apron strings.

"Hey, Red…" Morello said, acting as casually as she could. The Russian glanced at the untouched food on Mali's tray, before looking at the inmate herself. Her eyes were wide and locks of hair poked out from beneath her skull cap, which normally held everything in place perfectly.

"Girls, this isn't my work. I would never serve you this… This…" She was gesticulating furiously at their meals, spluttering as her eyes darted between the looks of pity and disgust on the inmates' faces. With a heavy sigh, she crumpled into the seat next to Mali, burying her face in her hands. "I've never felt so ashamed."

"Ah, come on… It ain't _that_ bad…" Mali said unconvincingly, picking at the tacky slop that had just spilled onto her hand.

 _Yeah it is._

She followed an inmate with her eyes, watching the disgruntled face walk over to the bin and empty out the untouched contents of her tray; a groan from Red told the younger inmate she had seen, too. The Russian's face resembled that of a child on the verge of tears: her mouth hung slightly open as her widened eyes flicked around the cafeteria, eyebrows raised in alarm. "Excuse me," she muttered distractedly, skulking away into the kitchen.

Mali craned her neck, tracking the cook until she was gone. As soon as her apron strings had disappeared from sight, the young inmate ducked her head, addressing the table.

"Fuck it, I'm going to Commissary," though her voice was firm, she spoke quietly, as though Red might somehow hear her. Morello and Yoga Jones looked down at their own trays of food, battling with the idea of doing something so obvious. How would they explain it if Red found out? A fly - which had been hovering over their table for the past five minutes - chose that moment to drop dead, landing in the centre of Morello's tray, slowly being engulfed by the stew as its tiny legs twitched.

"Yep, yeah, okay," Morello agreed, persuaded by the extra protein that was sinking into her meal. The three inmates discarded their still-heavy trays and, with a backwards glance at the kitchen, left the cafeteria.

"Did the visitation thing work?" Mali asked Morello as they walked. "Bunch of desperates fillin' your account for ya?"

"They're actually real nice guys," She reasoned, nodding sincerely.

"One of 'em's like, forty something and watches cartoons," Mali retorted, raising her eyebrows.

" _Anime."_

The younger inmate shook her head, smiling; it was impossible to argue with Morello on some things. Saving her breath, they walked in silence to join the sizeable line of inmates queuing for commissary.

"Looks like others thought the same…" Jones noted, as an inmate walked past laden with packets. _What if there's nothing left?_ Mali thought in sudden alarm, becoming aware of the empty feeling creeping into her stomach.

When they reached the front, they were met by an unamused Chang, who stared impassively past them. Mali signed for a chocolate bar, two packets of cookies and a jar of peanut butter - the last on the shelf. She watched as Jones took seven packs of instant noodles, stacking them up in her spindly arms.

"They have flavour packs," she explained as they started towards the dorm, noticing Mali's quizzical look. "Might make Red's food taste better?"

 _Huh._

It wasn't a half bad idea, providing it worked. _Too bad you can't afford it._ Mali reminded herself: Instant noodles were more of a high-end item, as far as prison commissary went.

Sitting on Morello's bunk, she opened her jar of peanut butter and scooped some out with her finger. The older inmate was rifling through a pile of letters, simultaneously scattering crumbs from her granola bar on them as she did so. Mali picked up one with writing so illegible it may as well have been done by a chicken's left foot. Straining to read the jerky handwriting between violently scribbled out lines, she deciphered quirky little phrases ( _'I find you sweet like milk from goat'_ ) and the identity of the wordsmith.

"Gustav Coj-Coi… Coja-"

"I dunno either," Morello responded, leaning over to see the letter. "Somethin' Romanian."

"Has he come to visit?" Mali asked, using her free hand to take out more of her snack.

"Yeah, yesterday."

" _That_ was Gustav?" She asked in disbelief, her finger of peanut butter hovering halfway between the jar and her mouth. "He looks like an egg."

Morello's busy hands stopped momentarily, considering the comparison.

"'S true," Mali said plainly, her attention back on the food. Examining the ingredients listed on the label, she didn't meet the older inmate's dubious stare; rather, she pursued her own train of thought. "Bet you his back's hairy as shit," she added. "Eastern Europeans, man. My uncle was like a fuckin' gorilla."

Mali looked up when a small laugh came from Morello, like air being released from a balloon. It had been a while since she'd heard her do that - sure, she had laughed, but it was carefully crafted; used when the situation required it. This time - though it was quick and insignificant - it was _real._ The laugh was already fading from her features, taking with it the character that had briefly made its appearance once more.

They had always complemented each other. The surplus of confidence that resided in Nicky overflowed into Morello, and without her, it had dried up. She needed someone.

 _Ding ding._

Mali (finally) understood. Morello's letters weren't schemes to con guys out of commissary - not primarily, anyways. She was just lonely.

Mali looked down at the chicken-scratch letter by her leg, abandoning her peanut butter to pick up the paper instead.

"You can do better," she stated, waving it. The look on the older inmate's face told her she didn't quite believe it. She scooted closer to where Morello sat and crumpled up Gustav's letter and dropped it into her lap. "I'm serious. Come on, who else ya got?" Morello relinquished the bundle of letters and silently watched as the younger inmate scanned over them, puckering her lips in thought. "These are the ones you met before?"

"Mhm."

Mali skimmed through the messages, occasionally raising her eyebrows or cringing at their words. She moved and repositioned letters on top of the bunk, as if figuring out a war plan. She tossed those she deemed unsatisfactory onto a messy pile, until her shortlist had been created; the surviving two letters laid out flat in front of her.

"Tod," she jabbed the paper on the left as she profiled the author. "Likes guns. No weird fetishes, body deformations, or obsessions with birds… Probably a Republican."

She slid the second letter closer to them. "Vincent. Twenty somethin', Italian. You guys can speak pizza to each other," She sat back against the wall, satisfied with her verdict, as Morello scooped up the letters and placed them with the rest before joining the younger inmate.

They stared at the opposite wall, finishing the remains of their food.

"What 'bout you, huh Mal?" Morello nudged the inmate's arm.

"What about me?"

"You and your boy Louie?" The smile was creeping into her words. Mali huffed.

 _Here we go again._

"We're jus-"

"Just friends?" Morello finished. She twisted in place so that she was facing the girl, smirking. "That ain't true, is it. Come onnn… just tell me," she shook Mali's forearm, becoming increasingly irritating; she was like a dazed schoolgirl when it came to anything romance-related. Mali sucked the air through her teeth.

"Fine."

Morello's arm-shaking morphed into a triumphant slap. She gently clung onto it, keeping the younger inmate in place as she bombarded her with questions. "Where'd you guys meet? _How'd_ you meet? Was he good? He sounds kinda sloppy…"

Her enthusiasm could've matched a machine gun on steroids. She rattled Mali's arm. Rubbing her temples, the younger inmate closed her eyes.

"We met when we were kids. Lived four blocks from me. Then in junior year we were a thing-"

"How'd he ask?"

"Text," Mali answered flatly. She felt bad for popping Morello's deluded, fantasy bubble… but at the same time refused to aid its growth.

"And..?"

"And shit, that's it," Mali knocked her head back against the wall. They sat together without speaking, letting their own thoughts play through their minds. A wry smile creeped into the younger inmate's features. "Hmpf. He was pretty sloppy. Scruffy, too. Like a dog," she wrinkled her nose. "Guess when you're off your face half the time it don't matter much."

Her words hung unpleasantly in the air. "He got me into all that shit. All we ever did," she sighed heavily. "Gave me somethin' on my birthday, y'know? We broke into a library or some shit, then he left me blitzed... an' then I'm done in for arson," Mali turned her head, watching Morello for a response. She had surprised herself with the apathy in her exposition, though she didn't know what to expect: She didn't blame Louie for any of it. She didn't regret anything, either.

 _How can you regret something you barely remember?_ The condescending thought sneered from the back of her mind. The memory was hazy whenever she tried to divulge it; a smoke screen blocking out everything but the flames that left their mark on her face.

Mali sunk lower against the wall, readying herself for another onslaught of Morello's questions, though it never came. There were some things that didn't demand elaboration. The nitty gritty of one's incarceration was one of those things. Accepting Mali's words at face value, Morello settled beside her and finished her granola bar.


	19. Chapter 19

**hi im back kinda this was buried in my files so here**

 **time skip couple episodes worth to the end of S3.**

"You're _what?_ " Mali spluttered over her lunch.

"Engaged!" Morello repeated breathlessly.

"But… but… you've known him for like, a month!" Said the younger inmate. _Jesus, talk about a hopeless romantic._ She thought to herself, staring at the pure happiness painted across Morello's face. Hers, on the other hand, held only curiosity (and mild confusion). "When did… I mean, how did you… _what?_ "

Morello leaned in, like it was a great secret she was about to share. "Well. It started as normal, y'know, Visitation. And he was just sittin' there lookin' kinda tense an' I knew - I just knew - that there was something the matter. So he started talkin' and-"

"Guys, seriously look at this piece of toast, how can you-"

"Fuck off with your god damn toast, Gina!" Mali shouted as the inmate slid into the chair next to her for the third time, clutching the piece of bread. With a mutter of "non-believer", Gina sulked away. With an impatient shake of her hand, Mali motioned for Morello to continue.

"But Vince didn't mean what he was sayin', I could tell, because I know that man. An' so I just did it! I ripped a ring from a magazine and got down on one knee-"

"You proposed to him?"

"Yes I did," Morello beamed. "An' he said yes and now we're engaged!" She finished with a squeal. Mali sat back in her chair, letting out the breath she didn't realise she was holding.

"But how does that even work? Can you actually get married? What about after, when you- I swear to god if you come at me with that toast _one more time... -_ when you're… _Mrs Lorna Muccio_?" That name alone was just as weird as the entire situation. Crossing her arms, she smirked across the table. "I ain't gonna stop calling you Morello."

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and the Litch was subdued. Mali was shuffling through the corridor with no specific destination in mind when she was tackled by Morello from behind, glowing even more than she was a couple days earlier. Returning the older inmate's bear hug as best she could, she managed to mumble "How was it?" Into her shoulder.

"It was perfect, Mal," Morello grinned, still enchanted, pulling away and joining Mali in her idle walk. She adjusted her toilet paper veil. "The ceremony was quaint, y'know, just Bell and O'Neil and Healy."

"I thought Red was there too?"

"Oh, she was. But she had to leave straight after the wedding. Me an' Vince got an hour to, y'know."

Mali winced as she tried to avoid thinking about the newlyweds romping in the Visitation room. "Classy."

But not even her sarcasm could break Morello from her daze, who smiled to herself all the way to Dorm A. It was as empty as the rest of the building, which didn't surprise Mali: the sun filtering through the windows was heating up the floor and making the room feel like an oven.

"Fuck it, I'm going outside. Coming?"

"Nah, I'll catch up later, you go," Morello said, admiring herself through the fragments of mirror on her wall.

Mali nearly collided with two inmates as they barrelled out of the cafeteria, their eyes wide with excitement.

"What's happening?" She asked.

"The fence. It's _open_ ," the taller of the two answered in awe and they rushed off.

 _Always the last to know._ Mali was accustomed to the thought now as she headed for the exit. At the doorway, a familiar mop of red hair was hesitating.

"Heard about the fence?" She asked from behind, receiving a slow nod.

"Then come on!" Mali urged, tugging Red's sleeve as she passed. The Russian allowed herself to be pulled along by the younger inmate. Sure enough, there was a definite gap in the chainlink fence on the far side of the grounds, a knot of inmates in its mouth rushing out into the wilderness. "What's on the other side anyways?" Mali asked, her arm still clutching Red's.

"Trees. And a lake. That's it..." but Mali had already quickened her pace as she heard splashing and something which sound an awful lot like genuine happiness.

She followed in the wake of the other inmates, navigating her way down the slope and stumbling on a hidden tree stump. Emerging from the copse of trees, the young inmate was presented with a huge lake stretching every which way. The sun bounced off the surface of the steely water and the assorted khaki in it and, though there was a trace of sulphur, there was something about the air which made it far more appealing than the air just thirty feet away.

 _Smells like freedom._

The smiles on the inmates' faces proved they felt it, too. There wasn't anywhere to go, but at least there were no COs breathing down their necks; no signs but the identification cards they wore that they were in a prison. Breaking into a grin, Mali kicked off her boots and socks and waded into the lake. No sooner had her waist been submerged than a wave of water greeted her, Big Boo looking triumphant behind it.

"Nice of you to join us, Mali," She said.

They spent the next half hour waging war on eachother (and others), until Mali realised Boo's size meant a victory was almost impossible.

Turning onto her back, she floated across the water, staring up at the clouds. _Everyone sees the same clouds_. She thought. She wandered how many people were doing exactly what she was doing, and the life they'd live thereafter. Some vegan, yoga instructor had probably looked at that cloud and thought _hey, a cloud,_ before returning to her pumpkin spice latte. The chill from the water seeped into her clothes as she thought of the people down in Max. Did they even have windows in Max?

It was a dull thud that drew Mali from her thoughts as her head hit something hard; she had floated into a pillar of the pier. Looking up, she saw two pairs of legs dangling over the side, belonging to Red and Norma. Mali paddled over to them and raised her eyebrows. "Not comin' in? The water's great," she splashed some over their bare feet to emphasise her point.

"We're too old for that," Red simpered, returning Mali's half-hearted splash with a kick of her own, sending a stream of water right into the young inmate's face. Wiping back the wet hair that had come to rest on her face, Mali sighed deeply and clung to the pillar to stop from drifting.

The sun was beating down on the water, broken only from the occasional splash. Most of the inmates had adopted a more relaxed activity out of exhaustion: floating on their backs or chatting in the waist-deep waters. Others had returned to the shore, either to dry off or to draw dicks in the sand.

But the sedated atmosphere was dampened by Red's grumbling. It wasn't exactly anything out of the ordinary… there was always something wrong or missing or annoying. And yet now - in this moment - it just seemed out of place.

"Why so down, Red?" Mali asked, breaking away from gazing at the scene in front of her to look at the older inmate.

"Why so happy, Mali?" She threw back as she tapped her nails on the sodden wood. The younger inmate threw her arm out, referencing the whole situation before them. _Ain't it obvious?_ She thought. Red chuckled, shaking her head. "I've been her 12 years, Mali. Has this ever happened before? No. Has something like this happened? Yes. And you better believe it won't end with us singing _kumbaya_ with the COs tonight."

No sooner had she said it than a barrage of blue and black stumbled onto the beach, barking orders.

"And we're back to it again," Red mumbled, heaving herself from the pier floor.

"Back to what?"

The two older inmates kept pace with Mali whilst she waded to the shore before Red answered her.

"To being prisoners."


	20. Chapter 20

**I'm back. Hi. Skip forward a bit here to mid S4 because honestly I just want Nicky back. Also: who should be Mali's new bunkmates? I'm thinking skinheads. Suggestions/Reviews always welcome. -Saf x**

Mali was, to put it lightly, fucking done. Her morning started off badly with the scrapings from the final batch of oatmeal as her breakfast. The shower line was so long that all she got was a 2 minute rinse (with cold water) before rushing out to Electrical for work… where she had to deal with Luschek for the next 4 hours. To top it all off, Healy had just roped her into his office, trying to recruit her into some 'safe space' bull.

" _Talk about your pent-up ange_ r," she mocked him under her breath as she dragged herself through the corridor, scuffing her boots on the floor. Hands in pockets and hood up, she wanted nobody else to bother her as she made her way to the dorm. " _Share your 'issues' with us,_ "she muttered. " _Safe space is for everyone..._ " she was cut short by a shoulder slamming into her side as she walked.

"Watch it, fucker!" Mali said instinctively, spinning round to square up.

"What, you're a tough shit now huh?" An all too familiar voice replied. _Nicky._ She had come back, and stood there smirking. "You gonna beat me up, or wha-" her teasing was cut short as Mali barrelled into her, knocking the older inmate back and causing her to drop the sack she was carrying as the girl wrapped her arms around her. Nicky returned the hug tightly, her hair tickling Mali's cheek.

"Not a hard motherfucker then, eh? Guess you just aren't-"

"Shut up," Mali cut her off. Her eyes were screwed shut. She didn't want to think of some smartass comeback. She didn't want the banter. _Not yet._ She thought. All she wanted at that moment was for Nicky to be there; to make up for lost time when she wasn't. With a small chuckle, Nicky obliged.

"Missed you too, kid."

Mali stood back and leaned on the wall, unable to keep the smile off her features even whilst pursing her lips. "When'd you get back?" She asked, excited energy forcing her hands to play with the zipper of her hoodie.

"About, uh, 10 minutes ago," Nicky replied.

"So I'm the first you seen?" Mali asked, somewhat surprised… her luck was never very good with these kinds of things. _Always the last to know._

"Yep. Well, I got acquainted with someone goin' on about the government," Nicky said as she picked up her sack and drifted in the direction of the dorms. "White hair, glasses…"

"Batshit insane?" Mali finished for her, joining the older inmate as she walked.

"Oh yeah."

"Yeah, that's Lolly. Harmless… Probably. So you haven't seen Red? Or Lorna?"

"Nah."

"Let's fucking go then!" Mali pulled Nicky's sleeve as she sped up, eager to be the bringer of good news for once.

The new bunk beds made it almost impossible to see who was in the dorm. Marching through the middle, Mali peered into each cube for someone worth talking to, Nicky following a short distance behind..

"We're crammed in here like goddamn sardines and yet there's fuckin' nobody here," she called back to Nicky.

"Mal, that you?" Lorna said from somewhere in a cube a couple from where the younger inmate stood. Half skipping to where her voice was coming from, Mali peered in, grinning at the Italian.

"What?" Morello asked, squinting her eyes; she'd seen that mischievous smile before.

Mali looked back before rolling her eyes. "Would you hurry the hell up? You're ruining my build-up."

Sauntering deliberately slowly past Mali, Nicky reached the opening of the cube. "Tada," she said sarcastically.

"Nicky!" Lorna breathed, her eyes wide. She stood up from her bed and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Sorry, I- it's just you been gone for so long an' I wasn't ever sure if I was gonna see you again but Red was convinced that you'd come back an' I was so hopin' she was right because well y'know it's b-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Nicky interrupted her nervous babbling with a sad smile and walked forwards, bringing her in for a hug. Lorna shut up, melting into the junkie's arms with such ease and comfort it was almost as if nothing had changed. Mali stood outside, waiting for them to finish their reunion, when Boo and Pennsatucky walked in.

"Guess who's back," Mali said, tapping her hands on the wall behind her.

"Oh boy, I wonder. Is it the late Michael Jackson?" Boo said sarcastically as the two inmates walked over, earning a half-hearted shove from Mali.

"Ay, Boo! Been keepin' all the pussy wet for me whilst I was gone?" Nicky smiled, grabbing her crotch before giving the older inmate a quick hug. Noticing Pennsatucky, she gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Doggett."

"Nichols," Tucky replied, returning the gesture.

"Why don't we go to the rec room, hm?" Lorna suggested, filling the silence. All in agreement, the group headed out, Lorna firmly attached to Nicky's arm.

"Look, I gotta see Red," Nicky said.

"She's on duty right now… Mali'll get her, right?" Morello replied, nudging the younger inmate.

"But…" Mali began. She hated always being the messenger. And, to be honest, she wanted to be with Nicky. _So does Red._ Her conscience unhelpfully reminded her. "Yeah, sure, okay."

Splitting from the others, Mali ran to the kitchen, only slowing down to a fast walk when she spotted a CO. Out of breath and tired, she slipped into the kitchen and knocked on the frame of the open door of Red's office.

"Mali," she greeted, not looking up from her invoices.

"You gotta come with me," Mali said eagerly, the excitement bubbling in her again.

"I'm busy. Can't it wait?" Red spun around to look at her.

"Nah, nope. You gotta come. Right now," seeing the Russian wasn't budging, she worked a different angle. Mali slouched, pouting childishly. "Please, mom. Please, please, please, please…" she watched Red purse her lips, determined not to give in. "... Please, please, please, ple-"

"Fine, fine!" Red conceded, hauling herself from the chair. "What is it?"

Mali bit her lip to contain her energy. "Nicky."

She anxiously watched as the Russian's face turned from annoyance to confusion to realisation. Without another word, the two walked as quickly as they could through the prison.

When they reached the open doors to the rec room, Mali stood aside to allow Red a clear path. The older inmate was already looking visibly softer. She paused to stroke the grinning girl's cheek softly. With a deep breath, she went to reunite with her eldest daughter.


	21. Chapter 21

**Christmas vibes, ya feel**

Mali sat in the Rec Room, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth with concentration. Spread in front of her were a variety of paper snowflakes, all ranging in shape and size. She was now battling with the safety scissors to cut through yet another folded piece of paper, without much success. The scissors finally broke through the layers of paper, sending a cascade of cuttings flying across the space. Holding up her latest creation in front of her eyes in order to admire her handiwork, Mali watched through one of the snowflake's holes as Nicky entered the room.

The older inmate stopped at the table and slid into the empty chair, sliding the scrap bits of paper lying on the table onto the floor with her boot and allowing her feet to rest there instead. She inspected the decorations briefly, before turning towards Mali instead. "Whuzzat?" she asked, nodding at the table.

"Snowflakes," Mali grunted in response.

"Yeah, no shit," Nicky grinned, looking up at the ceiling. "What I _meant_ was why,"

"Christmas," Came a one word answer yet again as Mali used all her strength to make another cut.

"Oh right, of course!" Replied Nicky, the enthusiasm as always couched in sarcasm. "You gonna work on the turkey next, or maybe fix up Santa's sleigh?"

The scissors finally cut through the paper as she finished her remark, and the older inmate was pelted with the tiny scraps that had been fired as a result. "Ha," Mali smiled malevolently, not taking her eyes off her work. Unfolding the creation carefully, she chucked it onto the pile in front of her and looked triumphantly at Nicky opposite.

The older inmate picked the snowflake up and lazily examined it. "You proud?" She simpered, a look of mock sincerity spreading across her face as she caressed the edge of the decoration. Mali shook her head and smiled, refusing to let Nicky's jibes dampen her spirits. The prison was bleak enough as it was; Mali had took it upon herself to try and change that.

"Where's the Christmas cheer, Nicky?" The younger inmate quipped back, the same amount of earnest - or lack thereof - in her own question.

"It died when I went past the age of twelve, clearly unlike _some_ peop- now what are you doing?" Nicky asked resignedly, for Mali had picked up the scissors once more and had begun stripping the remaining sheets of paper into long, ribbon-like pieces. She stopped mid-glide momentarily to look up at Nicky, eyebrows furrowed as if it were obvious what she was doing.

"Paper chains."

Nicky scoffed and raised her hands up defensively, amused by the girl's commitment to making things more festive. She watched silently as Mali hunched over the table, face just inches from the paper... she was so absorbed in her task. And Nicky didn't have the heart to tell her up front that it wasn't worth it. That, as far as the big men upstairs were concerned, the incarcerated were undeserving of any festivities. Sure, they might get stuffing-flavoured slop for lunch, or catch a Christmas classic on the radio. But, by and large, December 25th in Litchfield would be no different to March 2nd or August 15th. Still, you couldn't fault the girl's determination.

Nicky saw two people enter the room out of the corner of her eye, Lorna's light sway contrasting to Red's rigid stature. They walked slowly over, Red circling the table before stopping directly behind Mali. She placed her hands on the girl's shoulders, gently prising her out of her huddled position; Mali didn't lose focus despite the matriarch's fingers idly tapping on the fabric of her hoodie.

"Our little gremlin's turned into an elf," Nicky commented, getting a raised eyebrow from Red in response.

"And you?" She asked.

"She's bein' a grinch," Mali answered grumpily, still too engrossed in her paperchains to see the exchange of smirks from the three inmates.

Lorna idly picked up a glue stick and unscrewed its lid. "I think it's nice that Mal's puttin' in the effort," she said as she glued a strip of paper into forming a loop.

"Thank you!" The younger inmate replied, happy to see she wasn't completely alone. To her, it had felt like everyone in the Litch was either ignoring or just blissfully unaware of the huge-ass elephant in the room that was Christmas. Unlike on the outside, there were no bright lights or fake snow in the windows. No lingering smells of mulled wine or gingerbread… just the usual clinical scent mixed with damp. And everyone was as miserable as they usually were. Mali wanted to make things a little bit more festive if for nothing else than to convince herself that things didn't _have_ to be so damn bleak all the time.

"At least _some_ people aren't depressing shits…" she remarked, twisting Nicky's jab back against her, a smile creeping onto her face. It was interrupted however by a swift cuff on the ear by Red, whose hand fell back onto Mali's shoulder as quickly as it had left.

"Behave," she lightly warned. "What's all this for anyways, hm?"

Mali couldn't believe what she'd been asked. Slowly, deliberately, she placed the scissors and paper back onto the table. Before she could find the words to answer what was probably _the_ most blatantly obvious question, Nicky took the opportunity instead. Wide eyed and pouting, she used her most childish voice. "It's _Christmas,_ ma!"

"It's Christmas, Ma!" Mali echoed in exasperation. She leaned back so that she could see Red's face, which held only amusement at the young inmate's irritation. "Tell me I'm not goin' crazy. It's December, right?"

Red chuckled. She hadn't seen such childish excitement - even if it was poorly restrained - in a long time. She remembered the rude awakenings at five in the morning by her three boys, the thundering of feet as they all fought to be the first one down the stairs. The wonder in their eyes as they saw what _Ded Moroz_ had brought that year. She would have to sit with Vasily and help him wrap his presents; fend off Yuri and Maxsim from stealing the cookies as they cooled on the countertop; threaten to cancel Christmas altogether if they weren't in bed by eight. There would be twelve different snowmen outside. Shreds of tinsel on the floor. Handmade decorations adorning the tree. And paper chains absolutely everywhere.

Red smiled down at the young inmate and patted her cheek. "You wait, Malyshka."

In as quick a mood change as was only possible with the Russian, Red shifted from being cryptic to productive instead, abandoning her post behind Mali and instead putting on her glasses to inspect the contents on the table. The three inmates watched as she picked up the glue stick that Lorna had already abandoned. Red glanced up from behind her glasses, and raised an eyebrow. "Well, this paper isn't going to chain itself."

* * *

Mali lay on her front in the bunk, her hand hanging down and grazing the floor. The paper chains that they had made were scattered around the dorm, and her fingers still ached from Red's decision to enter mass production. She felt around under the bed until she came into contact with the produce box she'd stolen from the kitchen. It was now too heavy to be easily moved; it had been filling up since October. It was an assortment of crap, really. _Meaningful crap_. Mali corrected herself, for she had carefully selected the things inside for all the people worth her time.

"Hey," the chirpy voice of Soso caused the young inmate to look up. She perched on the edge of her bed opposite to Mali and nodded to the decorations. "What's that?"

Mali's head fell onto the mattress, her voice getting muffled by the sheets. "Christmas," she explained yet again.

"Oh, okay," her bunkmate said. The silence that followed could easily have been the end of their conversation. "Have you ever stopped to think that-"

 _Here we go._ Mali thought hopelessly, closing her eyes in frustration.

"-that our adherence to these seemingly pointless rituals just shows how ready we are to perpetuate the hegemonic ideals of tradition in today's culture?"

"No way," Mali reacted flatly.

"I know!" The sarcasm was clearly lost on Soso. "I was in the library, and found the communist manifesto. Something as uniform as Christmas is _exactly_ what Marx was referring to when he talked about the bourgeoisie controlling the masses. Take the American capitalist system…"

Mali let the rant wash over her, staring absentmindedly out of the cube instead.

"... and don't even get me _started_ on Santa Claus - that's patriarchy in action is what that is…"

Just as Mali started to consider smothering herself with her pillow, Lorna appeared at the entrance of their bunk. Mali caught her eye, silently pleading for an escape route.

"... I mean, why is Mrs Clause recognised only by her affiliation to a man? That's just-"

"Mal, Red wants ya,"

Mali swung her feet off the bed and shoved them into her boots before hastily joining Lorna out of the dorm.

"She just doesn't shut up!" She exclaimed as they pushed open the door. "I swear to god, man…" she shook her head, as they continued walking down the corridor. "Where we goin', anyways?"

"I told you, Red wants ya," Lorna replied plainly, with a hint of a smile.

Mali followed her to the bottom of the stairwell, where the older inmate looked both ways before continuing. She beaconed Mali over to the cafeteria doors. Mali furrowed her brow - meal time was over and the doors were usually locked by now. She was about to speak up when Lorna pressed down on the handle and swung the left door open and made her way inside.

At the far end of the room, close to the kitchen, two tables had been pushed together. A white cloth that seemed to be no more than an opened bed sheet spread over its surface, with paper plates and standard issue steel cutlery at every place around it. Standing at the head of the table was, of course, Red.

"What's all this?" Mali asked out of both confusion and disbelief, drifting towards the set-up.

"Christmas," Red answered simply.

The doors clattered open with the arrival of Nicky, with Vause, Chapman and Frieda trailing behind.

"Good, everyone's here - Gina and Norma are checking the food. Sit down," Red commanded, ensuring everyone did as they were told before disappearing into the kitchen.

Mali positioned herself to the left of where Red had been standing, as Nicky took the seat opposite. They exchanged glances. The older inmate shrugged, and Mali understood. The best thing to do when Red pulled something like this was to just enjoy it. You sure as hell wouldn't be allowed to help or contribute in any way, so it would go much more smoothly if you let Red do her thing.

"It's not a turkey, but it will have to do: roast chicken, anybody?" The Russian's voice rang out from behind the counter as she presented the oven tray between worn oven gloves; following close behind came Gina with a plate of potatoes and Norma with carrots.

"How the hell did you get a chicken?" Mali asked incredulously as Red hacked away at the meat with a normal knife.

"I have my ways, Malikova," she smirked. She loaded a plate and slid it towards the younger inmate. "Eat."

Cups overflowed with the prison's finest hooch and spirits were as high as the food piled up on everyone's plates. They told stories about past Christmases. They laughed. They made ever more increasingly ridiculous toasts. For a fleeting moment, Mali forgot where she was. Everything seemed so normal: the roast, the long table, the company. It was the iconic Christmas scene that she had never experienced, yet here it was in all its messed up glory. There may not have been a big tree with glittering lights or stockings hung up by a roaring fire, but this, at least, was real.

 **ngl writing Soso is super fun. Merry Christmas you lovely lot. Xx -Saf**


End file.
